The Best Of Both Worlds
by ShuttupMalfoy
Summary: Things are looking grim for the Malfoy family one year after the war, when the Dark Lord returns once more. Foced to live a life he has never wished for, Draco has nearly given up on it all when a mysterious girl inspires him to take his destiny into his own hands again. Life's about to change in ways he's never imagined. Rated M for Malfoy is in it.
1. Chapter 1: Scars

**The Best of Both Worlds**

**Chapter one **

**Scars**

Everyone has their scars. Some scars are there for a reason, to remind us not to repeat old mistakes again. Some are traumatic and leave a mark on our future, some never truly heal, some we wish we'd never got and some we're not quite proud of so we try to hide. All in all, though, scars mostly serve the purpose of reminding of wounds. The deepest scars, naturally, are not skin-deep. The thing about scars is, they tend not to go away.

Every story, including this one, begins with a scar. That one particular scar erupted with exquisite pain, flushed with a color blacker than poison, and set the pale white skin around it ablaze.

Draco clutched his left arm convulsively, and twitched like it was a long-rehearsed reflex. He was used to the sudden strikes of pain by now – they still haunted him in nightmares of that time when everything was smothered in darkness and the light at the end of the tunnel was most likely to be a killing curse. And though the days of war weren't truly behind him now, one year after the fall of the Dark Lord the Malfoys were determined to increase the distance between them and the memories as much as they could. Draco assumed he'd been dreaming, and he had almost convinced his troubled mind when the sharp pain repeated itself abruptly, leaving his Dark Mark burning, red and aching and his blood rushing in panic through his veins. But the pain was nothing compared to the slow, suffocating terror it brought to the mind. There was nothing more painful than the realization that this pain could only mean one thing.

Fear crawled through Draco's body in a nearly cautious manner. He sat up at the edge of his bed, drew his shaking fingers through his hair and breathed out slowly. It couldn't be… And yet the evidence was clearly present. Draco tried to stay calm – not because he saw any sense in it, but because he feared that if he started panicking now, he wouldn't be able to stop.

His second deep breath was interrupted by his bedroom door slamming open, revealing his mother's face, more bloodless and tense than usual. Her eyes wandered nervously around for a while, then found Draco's; then, Narcissa Malfoy said in a cold, albeit rather shaken voice:

'Get downstairs. Now. Your father and I need to talk to you.'

Draco sat there, frozen, like a statue. He perceived the demand and tried to stand up, but his feet wouldn't obey.

'Downstairs! Now!' Narcissa repeated shrilly, grabbed her son by the still stinging arm and dragged him out of the bedroom and down the main staircase. As they descended on the way to the dining hall, Draco looked helplessly around for a scratch of solace. Alas, for the past few years, Malfoy Manor, the place he called home – more or less – had started to resemble more of a cold and dim marble prison, a place where no one could say what they felt, for the walls were screaming the answer all too loudly and none of the residents dared to voice out what they were saying. Madness had settled in Malfoy Manor.

Lucius Malfoy was sitting at the dining table in the candlelight, looking grim and sipping from a glass filled with a suspicious brand of whiskey. One couldn't tell if he seemed infuriated or terrified. When Draco and Narcissa entered, he spoke without looking up.

'He's back,' he said curtly. These few words made the manor feel even colder.

Draco looked right through his father, standing still as if he was trying not to be there. Narcissa leaned over the table and lowered her voice to a whisper:

'Are we sure?'

Lucius nodded.

'It's indisputable,' he replied. 'It's just like all the other times. The Dark Lord has returned once more, and has summoned us again.'

'And there is nothing that can be done? Now what?'

'We go along as we always did. Do what needs to be done. Survive. It's not as if we have much of a choice.'

'I see. Then, a change of plan is needed, I suppose.'

'Clearly.'

Both of them were speaking in blank voices, casually, as if they were discussing a business deal. In the Malfoy family, it was not a sign of strength to display actual feelings. Wear your heart on your sleeve, they said, and it's a matter of time before someone stabbed it with a knife.

'Wait… but I thought Potter killed him, right?'

Draco's feeble shaken voice rang through the vast room for the first time since he'd entered. No one had even bothered to look at him since then. Perhaps neither parent could bear it.

'I mean, it can't be,' the young man insisted, although ever more hesitant. He was refusing to let go of the shred of denial he had left. If he did, all the horror from before would start over again…

'The Lord has mastered the ways of the Dark Arts to an extent we cannot even conceive,' Lucius responded in an absent voice. 'It's perfectly possible, it has happened, and we cannot reverse it. We don't have much time.'

Narcissa caught Draco's look, leaned closer to her husband and whispered frantically:

'Lucius, please, think about Draco... He doesn't deserve this… he's got his whole life ahead of him… We spent the last year trying to fix everything; we pulled all the strings we had so we could stay in the country, keep living a normal life after all that happened… Think of him,' she nodded towards her son.

'Surely he can kill him again, though, can't he?' Draco repeated imploringly. 'Potter? He and all the good guys, that's their job, right?'

His parents ignored his comment.

'I didn't ask for this to happen, Narcissa!' Lucius' fist thumped heavily on the table and his whiskey glass trembled. 'There is no point in dwelling on what could have been, because things are what they are now! If we could go back… well, we can't, and we can only join in again or be slaughtered! I hardly think he has any mercy left for those who abandoned him… twice. The Dark Lord is back, somehow, and if you don't like the idea of this life for our son, you can always choose death for him instead, and for us. Is this what you want?'

He looked like he was barely in control. Narcissa sighed and restored her stone-cold expression.

'Fleeing is out of the question, then; I see. In this case, there is just one thing to be done. Draco, dear?' she turned to her son with a faint smile. Draco, however, was shaking.

'You're trying to tell me,' he began with a thinning voice, 'that we have to do this… again? All of this? The war? Being afraid, and tortured, and an inch away from death? No, no, but they'll fight him off again, like the last time; they'll be ready as soon as he announces his return… '

'I doubt it,' muttered Lucius. 'The Dark Lord will not make the same mistake twice. I'm afraid our situation, for the time being, is rather… indefinite.'

'What?' Draco yelled desperately. 'Forever? How do you expect me to do this? Do I have a say in this?'

'Draco,' his mother approached him gently, 'listen, no one wants this for you... You know how much we lost after the war. You know how people look upon us now that they know which side we were on. We were lucky not to be in Azkaban now, and now we're just trying to preserve the little we have left… Think of what happened, sweetheart…'

'I've been trying in vain to forget it for an entire year, Mother!' Draco's voice echoed through the dining hall. 'You made me believe everything was going to be ok! And now – now I must pay for life for your mistakes, is that right?'

His rash outburst of words left the room hostile and morbidly quiet. Such subjects were rarely brought up in Malfoy Manor.

Lucius Malfoy suddenly jumped up with a start, then, like a madman, rushed over to his son and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Draco let out a little yelp. When Lucius spoke through gritted teeth again, he was more intimidating than ever:

'Now you listen to me, you whiny little brat,' he hissed out with a voice laden with threat. 'You always complain, don't you? Always wish life was better, brighter, easier, as if we didn't give you everything we could… Well, I have news for you: you don't get a choice this time. You can't quit being a Death Eater – unless you'd rather be a corpse. Like it or not, you mother and I sacrificed too much to keep you alive – and we will, even at the cost of your misery. Got it? Don't you dare ruin this too, boy!'

Draco's eyes were slowly getting filled with tears of helplessness.

'But – '

'Sweetheart,' his mother interrupted softly, 'there is nothing we can do.'

Malfoy Junior just stood there, dumbstruck. Lucius slowly loosened his grip.

'It's not all over, sweetheart,' Narcissa continued in a desperate attempt to soothe Draco, 'I'll make sure you live the best life you can have nevertheless. No one will have to know what you're doing. Your father's arranged a meeting for you for a job application at the Ministry… It's not a big post, you know, it's one regarding wizarding regulation management, but with our tarnished reputation, it's the best we could do… It took us a year, dear… Do this for us…'

'But I don't want to live this nightmare for a day, Mother,' Draco sobbed. 'Please, don't make me – '

'It's better than not living at all,' Lucius grunted.

'Sweetheart, it'll be fine!' Narcissa persisted. 'I've even spoken to the Greengrass family, they have two daughters… we're friends with their parents, and they might even overlook the fact you are a Death Eater…'

'Overlook?' Draco muttered feebly. 'Tell me you're joking!'

'What did you expect? That you'd become a big Quidditch star, flash your Mark around and get ladies with it?' Lucius mocked him cruelly. 'You'd be lucky now to get any job, and you'll have to take the first girl who likes you and doesn't fear imprisonment! Your life is no longer your possession! You are married to the Mark!'

'Mother, please,' barely uttered Draco. Narcissa clasped her cold, pale hand around his.

''There's no time for this, dear,' she whispered lovingly, but it was her eyes that finished him off – they emanated complete and utter hopelessness. Lucius nodded grimly, and at that moment Draco realized he had lost the battle.

'Do you understand what you have to do?' Lucius said coldly.

Draco lowered his head in resignation.

'Yes, Father.'

Submission. That was the law in Malfoy Manor. It was a time-honored pureblood tradition. The family had a say. Not the family members.

'Are you going to be a good strong boy and live the life that your family provides?'

'Yes, Father.'

'Will we have this argument again?'

'No, Father. '

'You will be ok, dear. Now be so good to get back upstairs and dress up, will you? The Dark Lord has summoned us, and we're already late. OK?'

'Yes, Mother.'

'And do your best to look your best. Even when we've fallen, we mustn't let the rest see our weakness.'

'Yes, Mother.'

Later, as he was adjusting his usual black suit in front of the mirror, Draco was thinking, through the blur of despair, about the future. It wasn't too hard to do this yet, for when what's left of your world is collapsing, it takes some time for the realization to sink in. He stared unseeingly into the reflection of his own tired eyes. The tears had seen no point in flowing. Here we go again, he thought… Did he want to keep being a Death Eater to save his life? Did he want to live it at all? Did he want to work at the Ministry? Did he want to be hitched up with a girl in an arranged marriage, a girl who was probably a rich, spoiled brat just like himself? Who cared? It was not a choice he had any longer. He could not go back, and there was nothing for him ahead, just fear, petrifying, suffocating fear. He was married to the Mark – and to his family – and the only thing he could do was do as he was told.

He fixed up his tie, slicked his hair back, the way he always did in the scenario of the well-rehearsed play of life, closed his eyes to stifle the rising terror and held the breath in his throat.

The nightmare was starting over again.

The scar was reopened.

XXX

In another place and another time, back when Draco Malfoy was twelve and not a Death Eater at all, a girl born in the Lynson family was preparing to go to Hogwarts.

The Lynsons were muggles, and not the kind of muggles that go about their business and leave the wizarding folk alone. They were the kind of muggles that were the reason for the medieval witchhunts to take place. Vernon and Petunia Dursley would appear tolerant towards magic compared to the Lynsons. Not only did the Lynsons not believe in magic – they firmly believed that everyone who did deserved a severe punishment followed by an obligatory change of mind. In, say, a mental institution. This was why, upon discovering she was a witch, their daughter Wera went through enough trouble, arguments and beatings to realize she'd best keep the whole thing a secret. She swallowed her tears, waited for the right moment, pretended she'd been experiencing a childish delusion which she had quickly outgrown, and made up her mind to find an alternative way to go to Hogwarts. She secretly read a few books, learned a few things, the most important of which was how to be at two places at once, and set off to study witchcraft without her family ever noticing a thing, thanks to her talent to make her body appear here and there at the same time. Her mind, however, she could not split in a similar manner, and so from that day on she remained conscious of both worlds she lived in, halfway in one and halfway in the other, never to feel quite complete in either. But as cursed and painful as this life seemed to others, to Wera it was not a bad deal at all. She'd always felt different and out of place in the muggle world, even before she knew what she was, and she paid a great price for it. This was a major inner glitch for her, a small tragedy that would not allow her to find joy or peace throughout her life if she were not to live it as herself. After all, though, half of a life as a witch, to Wera, was better than no life at all.

Some scars, painful as they were to bear, were worth it. Not that it was easy, of course. The things she had to lie about every day… As much as Wera was content with her situation, she had to admit, sometimes it really sucked to be a mudblood.


	2. Chapter 2: Not Dead, Just Bleeding

**Chapter two**

**Not Dead, Just Bleeding**

"Sometimes it really sucks to be a pureblood", Draco was thinking later that night.

He was sitting dressed in black from head to toe at the dining table in Malfoy Manor where the Death Eaters were currently holding a meeting. He was deeply dissatisfied with his destiny. If he wasn't a Malfoy, he probably wouldn't even be in this mess.

He tried not to start feeling sorry for himself again and focused on the Dark Lord's triumphant tale about how, miraculously – but due to his unique talents alone – he had managed to escape from the hands of death itself once again.

'…and this is why I'm standing before my followers here now,' Voldemort's voice rattled on. 'I, once more, proved wrong all of those who thought that a young boy could bring Lord Voldemort to an end… And, of course, some of those people are here in this very room. Some of you turned your back on me, deceived me, tried to flee… These people will be punished. But not today! Today, we celebrate the event of my second return, and my reunion with all of my loyal – and disloyal – servants. Should you think I've been too cruel a lord over the years, know that I've planned this night out to be like things were in our golden years: feasting, dancing, eventually going out hunting down muggles and other unworthy ones… I am generous today because this time I am confident there is nothing and no one that can get in my way to victory. A toast, then, Death Eaters, to cheating Death – and let the feasting and dancing commence!'

Draco was only thinking about the punishment. He could imagine life pulling a practical joke on him right now; at least that was what his inborn cynicism told him. He'd bullied a couple of kids in school and that probably meant he had to pay for it with a lifetime spent going completely insane. He'd already had a decent taste of it for two years of his life. Looking back, he even missed the school he hated going to – just because he could wake up there knowing he'd get to wake up the day after as well. It wasn't so bad. In fact, he had a whole lot more freedom then, even with his bossy overprotective parents around. He could go and play Quidditch if he wanted to. He could choose a girlfriend himself, although Pansy clearly wasn't the brightest choice he'd made. She never seemed to understand anything. He shouldn't have wasted the little precious time he had then; he should have broken her up a lot earlier… but how could he when his parents were so keen on having a familiar pureblood daughter-in-law…

His life was a series of mistakes – and now that he finally knew how to choose the right thing, he no longer had a choice. Choosing time was over long ago. He couldn't even pick a career himself anymore. And that Greengrass girl he was planned to marry… He'd seen her a few times at Platform 9 ¾ with her sister Daphne, with whom he'd gone to school together. Daphne was a friend of Pansy's, meaning that the Greengrasses were already thoroughly informed by the Parkinsons about what a mean bastard Draco was for leaving Pansy. Not to mention his Dark Mark problem… Surely, though, the Greengrasses would agree to have him join the family in exchange for the small fee of half the Malfoys' fortune. Was this what he had to settle for? Being sold to a snotty princess? He, of all people, knew princes and princesses often had no say in their lives whatsoever. So maybe this was what his mother was hoping for – to find him a girl he could share his misery with. That sounded almost hopeful, given the circumstances…

"No," he shook off the thought immediately, "that would never happen. That girl will never know what it feels like to be forced to run and hide, and be a liar and a criminal and a torture toy for a deranged monster for all time – and to lead a pathetic life that will never be hers." A life that was almost as bad as death. A life of complete submission.

Draco stood up mechanically, ready to dance when the music started playing. Some sick ball that was. But he had to, for it was the Dark Lord's orders, and the last thing Draco needed right now was a Crucio.

He was just looking around for a dance partner when he saw someone advancing straight towards him through the black-clad crowd. It was not a Death Eater he recognized, yet the face of the person seemed vaguely familiar. A girl was approaching him through the Death Eater masses, a girl who looked about his age, and that was unusual enough in itself. Why would anyone want to walk up to him? For years the other Death Eaters looked upon him with nothing but pity or disgust. Still, this one seemed to be new to the group. If he wasn't so consumed with his own sufferings (and if he was naturally a more compassionate person), Draco would probably feel sorry for the girl for becoming a Death Eater at such an early age, like himself. She ought to be terrified, he thought vaguely.

The girl, however, apart from looking bored, insecure and very much out of place in the picture, didn't appear terrified at all. She marched up to Draco and said without a moment's hesitation:

'May I have this dance?'

Draco blinked. This was not a question that his troubled mind had room for right now.

'Excuse me?'

'A dance,' the girl repeated calmly. 'Unless you have a good reason not to.'

Despite everything, Draco Malfoy reassembled what was left of his pride.

'Do you have any idea who you're talking to?' he fired back, increasingly irritated. Maybe he was down in a ditch, but he was still a Malfoy, and that meant something. 'Think I have no one better to dance with, do you?'

'Relax, I only asked you to dance because you look like the least intimidating person in the room,' the girl shrugged, impervious to his response. 'Do you think I'd ask Greyback to dance, or that scary guy with the eye-patch over there? He's been eyeing me for ages now. And you're not half as frightening.'

Draco put on a repulsed face and immediately tried to appear more frightening.

'You should know, in case it's escaped your attention, that I happen to be Draco Malfoy,' he announced snobbishly.

'Yes, I know, but I don't mind,' the strange girl completely ignored the true meaning of his remark once more. Draco was too shocked and appalled at this attitude to react when she put her arms around his neck.

'Come on, half the song is through anyway, and I don't want to walk out of here as Greyback's dinner.'

She had dark brown hair past the shoulders; she was very pale and skinny. When Draco started reluctantly dancing with her, she had to stand up on her toes to reach the level of his face. The girl took one small look at him before they both looked away, to keep the dance within the borders of an inconvenient duty. Draco noticed there was something soft in her brown eyes, something almost shy, and that was not the look in the eyes of a Death Eater, which was inevitably either cruel, hollow or terrified. It was not a pleasant job, not for pleasant people, at least.

Draco firmly turned his face away, staring unseeingly at the crowd surrounding him while a sad song was playing in which a clearly tormented singer was wailing his heart out singing of suffering, hopelessness and betrayal. Draco felt sick at the sound of it, possibly because it suited his unpleasant feelings all too well and reminded him of everything that upset him. If only he could, he'd put the singer on the record out of his unbearable misery.

A voice in the vicinity of Draco's ear brought him back to reality.

'That's one hell of a dumb song, if you ask me,' muttered the girl he was dancing with while they were both holding each other awkwardly, keeping an appropriate distance, staring blankly in completely different directions. 'Pointless and unnecessary torture, don't you think?'

'Yeah,' Draco agreed numbly. Yeah, confirmed his inner self. It was all the singer's fault.

The singer wailed on and on, criminally thrilled with his doom.

'Nice outfit, by the way,' spoke Draco's dance partner again with a small smile, and Draco couldn't see it because he was busy looking over the girl's shoulder, but that smile was nearly directed his way. 'Black suit, a black shirt and a black tie. You really have a talent for matching colors.'

It was an innocent remark, not meant to ridicule him, but something in Draco fiercely protested against it.

'Honestly, black suits you very well, but you look like you've dressed up for your own funeral. You could use a bit of cheering up. You know, a change.'

Draco was so shocked he was lost for words. It had been so long since anyone had had the audacity to speak to him like that; in fact, he couldn't remember when that had last happened. The girl didn't sound hostile at all, but there was something much more unbearable he heard in her voice than an insult – it was almost as if she felt sympathy for him. Draco was indeed feeling sorry for himself, but strangers had no right to feel the same. He felt ashamed that his emotional state was showing so much. He said, once again, nothing.

'You could at least change the tie, you know, try something different,' his partner continued, unbothered by his conscious attempts to pretend she didn't exist. 'Like red, maybe. It won't look too Gryffindor on a black suit. Better than dressing like you're already dead. That way you'll know at least you're still bleeding.'

The worst thing about these words was they clearly were meant to say something more to him. Draco felt exposed and transparent, and therefore unsafe. It wasn't the time to lose his cool, though, not in a room full of Death Eaters where the singer of the song was extracting final breaths of exquisite torture from his throat.

Involuntarily, Draco stepped a breath closer to the stranger. She was much like the song playing: irritating for she spoke painful truths about his feelings, and yet the only shelter around to be seen, the one thing in this airless gloom that he could breathe in, and, even if for a second, feel like he matters and he's actually there. Not for long, but still not completely gone. Bleeding, possibly, but not quite dead yet.

The agony of the song finally came to an end, and the girl withdrew herself discreetly from Draco's arms. What followed was a carefully planned out lack of eye contact. Draco snapped out of his thoughts. He almost expected the girl to pester him more after this dance, but she simply nodded at the space beside him, and, still avoiding his eyes, said:

'Thanks for the dance. Well, I'll have to be going now before anyone else asks me to dance, or worse. Good luck with the choice of clothes!'

By the time he decided it was safe to look at her, she was already walking away through the sea of Death Eaters, and soon she had vanished. Draco felt he hadn't done something quite right – a very familiar feeling. Clearly, he was so desperate he was glad to talk to anyone these days. The Moaning Myrtle syndrome. "You're such a fool sometimes, Malfoy," he thought.

'Everything alright, dear?' Narcissa asked as she was passing by him. Draco turned a blank face to her.

'It's ok, Mother,' he assured her distractedly. 'It's not like I'm dead or anything.

XXX

The big surprise was how much he'd wanted to be pestered the previous night. Today, he was not all there. But at least, in his mind, he was somewhere; anywhere was better than here.

'Everything ready, dear?' Narcissa's voice echoed in that motherly fashion that strived to indicate nothing had happened. 'Hurry up, you'll miss your appointment at the Ministry today.'

'Yes, Mother.'

'You've got the floor and desk number and your job application form, right?'

'Yes, Mother.'

'All filled out?'

'Yes, Mother.'

'Some money, should you have to get a new one? They print them out two floors down, don't forget. And the name of the receptionist is Hopkirk, Mafalda's son, recently started working there. Oh, and I know someone else who did so too not long ago!'

'Hmm?'

'Astoria, of course. Greengrass's daughter. When you're passing through the lobby, be sure to take a small detour to the doors to the left and give her our best, okay? And try to smile, dear.'

'Yes, Mother.'

'Excellent! Your father and I are so proud!'

She kissed him on the cheek and sent him off with a wish for good luck. Draco disapparated.

The visits to the Ministry were never fun ones. Many of the workers stared at him pointedly, as if he was ill or contagious or something. Well, that's what bad reputation does to you. He swallowed hard, slicked his hair back as usual and turned to face the desk of Hopkirk, the receptionist.

'Ah, Mr Malfoy, we've been expecting you. Looking for a noble wizarding occupation, I assume?'

Draco nodded. It was all part of the choreographed play.

'Let's see, wizarding regulation management. Fascinating prospects, it has.'

Nod.

'Do you have your form with you?' Hopkirk inquired.

'Yes, I do. Just a moment,' Draco began, fumbling through the papers he was carrying.

His mind wandered through the prospects Hopkirk was talking about. Shouldn't be any trouble… A job at the Ministry, not much, but still – the Ministry… Ever since he was a little kid, Draco had known that was where he'd be when he grew up. Right where his father was. Draco was so proud in those days. "My father works at the Ministry. My father has a fortune. Everyone knows my father and one day I'll be just like him." Yeah, a voice in his head said sarcastically, your father is amazing. He's a Death Eater, a former prisoner, a despotic, psychotic arsehole who lives off lies and runs a wrecked mockery of a family on hypocrisy. And you'll become just like him once you start working here and climb atop the social ladder and settle down with a person who'll expect you to be nothing more.

A sudden chill came over him and caught him unprepared.

'I-I'm terribly sorry,' he heard his own lips utter, 'I must have misplaced it… It's there somewhere I can get a new form to fill?'

'Two floors down,' readily answered Hopkirk. 'Take your time; we'll be eagerly awaiting your submission.'

Submission… There'll be enough of that today.

Draco didn't go two floors down, but took the elevator straight to the exit instead. His heart was leaping, as though he had just signed his own death sentence. He deliberately skipped that detour to Greengrass's desk. If the woman was to spend her life with him, surely she could survive his absence another day. Maybe she'd turn out to be loving and caring… maybe she'd start caring for him once she got to know him, or maybe not, but that was to happen tomorrow, when he wouldn't have a choice. Today, in this small fleeting moment, he did, however, and he'd use it for something he wanted to do, no matter how insignificant it was.

It wouldn't change his life, but it would bring him the pleasure of deciding for himself one last time.

He apparated on the very familiar Knockturn Alley, a place that contained so many fond dark memories of his younger years. But he didn't enter Borgin and Burke's. Instead, he went into the nearest clothing store.

When he walked out, he was in the possession of a crimson tie of finest silk. Its poisonous shade of red was about as cheerful as the red you'd see on the cleaver of a butcher. But Draco liked it very much. It gave him a strange irrational hope for the future.

If he was preparing to be buried alive, he might as well try to go down with a little color.


	3. Chapter 3: Mudblood

**Chapter three**

**Mudblood**

'We've got the Italians on our side! No one is aware we're growing stronger. We've got the numbers, and now that Potter is no longer an involuntary horcrux of mine, he remains clueless about my return. The plan is going swimmingly.'

Voldemort was ecstatic. Yet another happy gathering at Malfoy Manor to celebrate the progress of crime. Well, happy for him, at least, and he was so happy he wasn't handing out punishments just yet. But this time, he was not the only one.

'That is a lovely new tie, sweetheart,' Narcissa complimented her son as he was digging idly through the hors d'oeuvres on the table. 'It really gives you a daring, handsome look. How are matters with the Ministry going?'

'Still awaiting a response,Mother,' Draco replied mechanically.

'It'll come, dear, don't worry.'

"You wanna bet?" Draco thought morbidly.

'And what about Astoria? Was she happy to be introduced to you?'

'Thrilled.'

"Not as much as you and Father will be when Mr Greengrass tells you I never really met her."

'Great, dear, great! You will succeed, my handsome boy! You just need a little patience. Next time you see Astoria, go dazzle her with your new tie, it really does look fetching… I know you'll be seeing a lot of each other in the Ministry soon!'

Draco didn't respond. He was oddly tense. He knew what he was waiting for and was stalking the door like a predator. No Malfoy ever acts without a carefully prepared strategy.

And there she was, sitting alone at the corner of the table, shyly drinking something non-alcoholic and looking like she didn't belong here at all, the girl from last week who was certainly not a Death Eater. What on earth was she doing here, then? Perhaps no one had noticed her come in as she wasn't very easy to notice in the first place. Today, she looked rather gloomy. She certainly needed to be cheered up. Draco adjusted his crimson necktie, waiting for the right time to return the gesture. He was, of course, a Slytherin. Bravery was not his cup of tea, so there was no way he'd go out there and ask her to dance. That'd be humiliating, desperate and ill-planned. He was, however, determined to stare icily at her until she came to him.

After twenty minutes of persistent staring, he eventually saw the stranger notice him in the crowd. She waved, stood up and headed hesitantly in his direction.

This time their eyes met for a short while, before her glance landed on the eerie blood-red tie around Malfoy's neck.

'Wow, an improvement,' she nodded towards it in approval. Draco barely raised an eyebrow.'Good for you. Care for another dance?'

'Since you so desperately desire,' Draco did his best to appear smug and superior. He was really practiced at that. 'But personally, I think Greyback's looking far better tonight.'

'I'm afraid I don't have enough meat on my bones for him,' the girl smiled lightly. Draco saw this as a personal victory. 'Besides, you still look like you really don't want to be here.'

'And why are you here?' Draco ventured to inquire. 'Who the bloody hell are you?'

'I'm not a double agent that'll send you all to Azkaban, don't worry,' the stranger assured him. 'I did do some auror work a few years ago, yes, but nothing Ministry-related, I despise the Ministry. It was a personal notion, if you will. I'm not out to spy on ones like you. Usually, I come across people who are far more serious threats than yourself. No offense,' she added, 'I keep in mind that you're the famously feared Draco Malfoy.'

'And you are?' Draco insisted. 'He made sure he looked appropriately bored. 'That is, you wouldn't mind proving you're not a spy by revealing your identity, right? Otherwise I'd have to kill you.'

The girl smiled again.

'Aw, you're too kind. I'm Wera Lynson. And don't laugh at my name, or I'll laugh at yours.'

'So why are you doing this stupid and dangerous thing, Wera Lynson?'

'What, dance with you?'

'No, sneak up on Death Eater meetings for fun. Well?'

'It's not for fun... I need to know what's going on in the wizarding world. If there's anything too bad coming, I'd have to speak to some people to keep the situation contained. But don't worry; it's more of a hobby than an occupation, really. I just figured I owe this to your world, given all it means to me.'

Draco froze and turned to her sharply.

"Your"world?' he uttered with utmost disgust. 'What on earth is that supposed to mean?'

He instinctively took a step back.

'Calm down, man. I have a situation, that's all. I'm just muggleborn, it's not contagious.'

Draco twitched abruptly as if it was. Then, his malignant side took over.

'No way! You're a mudblood? Hah! Damn, I should have known! Figured you'd mingle with the pureblood crowd, huh? Enjoyed dancing with your superiors, have you?'

The mudblood named Wera gave him an unimpressed look.

'Look, you can whisper it in my ear if you like; just don't go around shouting it, unless you want to see me torn to pieces on the dining table. Excuse me for a second,'she added coldly and strode away. A moment later, she was nowhere to be seen.

Draco felt like an idiot. He sighed, stared angrily at his glass for a while, then took a stronger sip than he could handle. "Astoria Greengrass, here I come," he thought bitterly.

Life went on, once again not according to his liking.

His usual gloom these days was returning quickly when it was unexpectedly sabotaged by a sight Draco did not see coming. To his amazement and odd relief, Wera the mudblood was seen again struggling on her way to Malfoy through the now slightly inebriated crowd. Why on earth she had decided to do so, it was a mystery to Draco, but he could swear he almost started laughing, unable to believe his luck. Now, given the circumstances, any regular person in his place would not make the mistake to insult his only desired companion at this meeting twice. But Malfoy was not a regular person. His deeply rooted inherited pride and prejudice were a terrible combination. They were therefore the reason why the very first thing Draco decided to say to the girl since her half-hearted return was not an improvement of his earlier remarks.

'Where did you go?' he addressed her accusatively. 'Come to mutter a proper comeback, have you?'

The girl raised an appalled eyebrow.

'Not really, but it seems you insist on it,' she prompted sourly. 'I went to the bathroom, if you must know; not that it's any of your business. Anyway, what type of a comeback would you like?'

Draco responded with a demolishing smirk.

'The kind a filthy mudblood can muster, I suppose.'

'Man, you really would like to have to scrape my blood off your dining table tomorrow morning, wouldn't you?' Wera cast a grim and ever so sour smile Draco's way.'Honestly, do you think it's a good idea to be shouting the word "mudblood" in a room full of Death Eaters? Come on, do me a favor and save my life, will you?'

For a moment, Draco Malfoy felt a tad uncomfortable, like a naughty child being mildly told off in the nicest way possible.

'Well, I'm sorry about that,' he articulated lazily even though he wasn't,' but it's not like I can help it. After all,' Draco added more quietly this time, lowering his voice in Wera's general direction, 'you can't deny you are… a _mudblood_. See, mudblood, with all due respect, we don't like mudbloods in our family or in our house, and it's not my fault that you are a mudblood.'

Wera rolled her eyes towards the ceiling with tired exasperation.

'It obviously brings you immense pleasure using this word. I won't deprive you of it, knock yourself out.'

'Well, what do you have to say in your defense?' urged Draco.

'Nothing, I'm afraid. I _am_ a mudblood, after all. There's not much I can do about it, so you'll have to suffer my condition for a while longer.'

It really wasn't fun when your verbal opponent wasn't fighting back, thought Draco, irritated rather than puzzled.

'Aren't you eager to stand your ground and tell me all about how proud you are to be a mudblood?'

'Why should I when I'm not proud? I'd love to be in your shoes, trust me, since being a mudblood causes me more pain than it does you, believe it or not, There, I'll say it again – I'm a mudblood. And I'm not very happy about it.'

'That's right,' Draco grinned sinisterly, 'you _should _be ashamed of yourself.'

The moment he said it, all the unjust joy of the victory in the verbal conflict disappeared. Clearly, Malfoy thought, feeling like an idiot had numerous degrees.

He stared awkwardly ahead, shifting feet uneasily as the girl next to him proceeded to ignore him and appeared increasingly annoyed. The young man decided to try a more mature approach to the problem.

'So,' he began again, dragging out every syllable he pronounced in a most infuriating manner, 'fancy that party, huh, mudblood?'

'Amazing, Unpleasant music and unpleasant people.'

'Not all of them.'

'I beg your pardon?'

Draco had intended the line as a compliment, but it was so well disguised that Wera Lynson didn't notice. Right now, the young blond man she was unwillingly talking to looked arrogant, uninterested and stuck-up as usual, but deep within him a great bloody battle was being held, and the struggle of inner motives took many casualties in both warring sides of his perplexed brain.

'I said', he repeated an iota more softly, 'that not everyone present is an unpleasant person.'

'Why of course,' Wera responded with nearly cheerful sarcasm, 'some are not people, some are mudbloods. Thanks for the reminder, I almost forgot.'

Draco pretended he'd heard nothing of what she'd said.

'You mentioned that this thing you're doing is just a hobby,' he persisted. Malfoys were genetically born stubborn shameless bastards. 'Does this mean you have some sort of another job?'

'Not really, not yet. I recently graduated from Hogwarts. Amazing they let me in at all, being the mudblood and all. I guess they were eager to see me leave.'

Self-irony was not a weapon commonly used against Malfoy in a conversation, so he was certainly taken aback by it. That, however, didn't stop him.

'So you have a lot of time on your hands then?'

'Yeah, I suppose. When I'm not busy doing wicked mudblood deeds, of course.'

'In this case, I have a proposition for you, mudblood,' Draco announced solemnly, as if the girl was expected to feel infinitely flattered that the guy who had been insulting her for the past twenty minutes had a proposition for her. 'See, I have this problem. I haven't been really happy with my parents lately, so I'm planning to piss them off in some way, you know, teach them a little respect…'

Wera didn't even bother looking at him.

'Great,' she replied blankly, 'that shouldn't be a problem for you. When it comes to pissing people off, you're a natural.'

'…which is why I've thought out the perfect plan to do this, given the fact they want nothing but the best for me and so on,' Draco blabbered on. 'There's nothing that could make them angrier than me dating a girl who is a mudblood. In other words, my proposition is that you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while to piss my folks off. You don't really have to do anything, it's just for show. You know, we could just go to dates and hold hands and call each other names and stuff.'

The girl next to Draco turned her face to him slowly, in shock and disbelief, and narrowed her eyes to grace him with a glare of genuine frozen fury.

'Excuse me?'she retorted shrilly. 'Do you imagine the names I could call you _right now_?'

Draco shrugged innocently.

'What? I can pay you, if you like.'

'WHAT?' the pale, dark-haired girl stepped back in indignation and disgust. 'Sorry, do I look like a call-girl or something? You don't seem to have a shortage of arrogance, do you? Who do you think you are? Besides, why do I get the feeling you couldn't care less about whether your folks will take this out on me if they knew? To hell with this, and to speaking to you at all, it's downright humiliating!'

'Aw, come on!' Draco's face was a portrait of sweet innocence, pure as morning dew on a delicate flower. 'It'd be perfect! You're a mudblood, you posses no extraordinary looks, and you're a brunette – and Mother always hated brunettes. Said they'd ruin the Malfoys' genetic harmony, and – '

'The answer is "no way", your Majesty.'

This steely remark undoubtedly meant the game was over. But Malfoy hadn't fired his last shot yet. He had a cunning strategy, and he was confident he hadn't been sorted in Slytherin for nothing.

'Aw well,'he said slowly, with a loud, velvet voice as the girl was angrily walking away,'that's alright then. I should have predicted that you wouldn't feel comfortable in the company of people who are clearly superior to you.'

A tense pause; then, the air in Malfoy Manor dropped to arctic temperatures.

'You're saying I won't feel worthy of your company?' Wera hissed venomously. 'Oh, what a painful experience will it be for my poor self, who is so much beneath your level! Please!' She approached and stared him down so fiercely that Draco felt compelled to blink in order to withstand the force of all that fire. 'You know what, Draco Malfoy? I don't want your money. I accept your challenge – but only because I hate the guts of people like you. I'll show you who's superior! Meet me tomorrow night, eight o'clock sharp, in front of "The Warlock's Head" club on Knockturn Alley. Don't forget to alert your precious parents about it. And don't be late, or I'll change the meeting place to St Mungo's and book you an appointment there!'

Draco grinned when she left the party, and didn't stop grinning victoriously until it was time he went to bed. The scarce guilt he'd felt about overcalling the girl a mudblood was completely erased by the triumph he was experiencing. His heart was racing, for the first time in ages, with something other than fear. So what if he'd called her a mudblood – after all, she was one, and he was naturally a rude person. He nearly managed to convince himself he was indeed doing this to show his parents he still had a choice. He had to take a stand, right? Besides, that could help get the Astoria problem off his back, were he to be seen with an ill-reputed young lady. There was, however, a part of Malfoy that could never be fooled, and that part didn't even bother to deny that he found arguing with that Lynson girl so inexplicably addictive. It wasn't a fight with an enemy – it was a game that put a long-forgotten part of his personality back in shape. A horrible part it was, but at least it was his.

On his way to bed, Draco was thinking with endless self-satisfaction that, whatever that game he was playing was, he had just scored fifty points for Slytherin.


	4. Chapter 4: Love's Not A Competition

**Chapter four**

**Love's Not A Competition (But I'm Winning)**

At seven forty-five the next evening Wera Lynson, however, was not preparing for a Quidditch match, or a date. She was preparing for war.

The angrier she was, the more determined she was to shove her worth in Malfoy's face tonight – with force. And angry she was; not since her days at muggle school had she communicated for so long with someone this obnoxious. Feel sorry for him? Big mistake. She'd been bullied by people like Malfoy since forever, but she was no longer the little helpless girl in school. She'd become much stronger since then. She was prepared to do anything to get back at Malfoy tonight at any cost for all the people who ever made her feel inferior. He had no idea what he had coming.

She put on her finest, tightest and most fetching black dress. She adjusted her cleavage to the point it was more than clear what it contained. She'd walk, talk and look like a lady from the high society tonight, and she'd give that Malfoy hell for all the hell she'd gone through in the past.

At two to eight, Malfoy apparated at the dating place to pick Wera up. She frowned when she saw him. Judging by his appearance and posture, his tactics were discouragingly similar to hers.

Wera made a quick evaluation of the situation.

Her advantage – he was a guy – a weird one, but still a guy – and she was dressed like a very expensive and provocative woman. Her disadvantage: she wasn't used to wearing high heels. His advantage: he was trained to the ways of the high society and wouldn't lose his cool. Damn. That meant she had to be the first to strike.

'Couldn't have put on more perfume for this date, could you now?' she began spitefully when Draco was just a step away from her.

'I see you couldn't have put on less perfume, on the other hand,' he retorted instantly. 'Still, given what you had to work with…'

He drew out his hand for hers to hold with an ironic gentlemanly gesture. To Wera's immense dissatisfaction, Malfoy's manners were flawless, and so was his appearance, class-wise. His hair was slicked back so fiercely it looked a painful process, his black suit was shining, sharp and spotless, his collar matched his snobbish yet contained expression perfectly, and a distinct aroma of an exquisitely masculine perfume filled the air around him. If he sneezed, money would probably rain from his entire being.

Wera took his hand with avid revulsion.

'Let's just go in and see if you can get a table on your charms alone,' she muttered grimly, feeling defeated.

'Um, I'd rather we went for a walk first,' Draco suggested. It seemed he had something in mind. After all, "The Warlock's Head" was a posh place in Knockturn Alley his parents frequently visited. If he went in there with an unknown girl, Lucius and Narcissa would know before he even came home. And Draco wasn't sure if he was ready to face their wrath yet.

Wera read the anxiety in his eyes correctly.

'What, you don't want to be seen with filthy little mudbloods? Scared of mommy and daddy's good whipping? Why don't you just call the whole thing off, eh?' she said hopefully.

'No,' Draco replied distractedly. 'It'd be a waste of looks for you tonight. I see you've tried to live up to my expectations. This is probably the best you'll ever look.'

'I'm only doing it out of spite, if you must know,' Wera informed him icily.

'I guess it'd do me good to keep you infuriated, then. You seem to be getting cold in that small dress of yours though. Want a jacket, mudblood?'

Draco handed her the upper piece of his suit and waited patiently for the girl to decide. Wera's pride was against it, but her frail anatomy gave in.

'Thanks,' she snarled.

They took a turn and walked down an insignificant alley while Draco was suspiciously eyeing the people passing by. For a while, both Draco and the girl said nothing.

'I assume my appearance has left you speechless,' Draco shamelessly fished for a compliment. His date stifled an audible laugh.

'Oh, yeah,' she said, amused, 'I just can't decide what's more breath-taking – your ghastly hairdo, your overly heavy perfume, your conceited, narcissistic smile or your hideous eyes.'

Draco stopped abruptly in the middle of the street. He was caught unprepared this time. He'd been called many kinds of things, mocked and insulted in various ways, and was always ready with a verbal counter-attack. But no one, to this day, had said anything bad about his eyes. He considered them to be one of his strengths. His mother always told him he had the eyes of an angel. And the hair of an angel. And the face of an angel. And the personality of a Cornwall pixie.

'What's wrong with my eyes?' he snapped, unable to struggle with his indignation and curiosity.

'Nothing, I suppose,' shrugged Wera. 'I just don't have a fondness for eyes of the blue or grey variety. I find them cold and dishonest.'

The words "what's wrong with being cold and dishonest" were on the tip of Malfoy's tongue, but he swallowed them bitterly.

'Well, at least I don't look like Potter,' he growled.

Wera raised an eyebrow in his general direction.

'Oh, I'm sorry,' Draco replied sourly, 'the last thing I wanted to do was offend your hero.'

'Hero? Are you kidding me?' the girl said in disbelief. 'If Harry Potter is a hero, then I am Merlin! His every success is based on nothing but luck, and friends who have his back more than he deserves. There isn't a person in the universe more self-absorbed than him. Besides, if he were to die, the general level of intelligence in the world would rise significantly. But hey, since when do heroes need to think?'

Draco looked like he had just misheard something.

'Excuse me,' he began cautiously, for fear of ruining the dream come true, 'but did you just imply you don't like Harry Potter?'

'Like him? I can't stand that moron! He thinks that just because he's one of the good guys, people ought to forgive him his stupidity! I mean, come on, hundreds of people died because of him last year! Some hero!'

Draco did his best to stifle a wide, malicious grin, but he failed. Before he could stop himself, he was already joining in on the anti-Potter rant:

'Saint Potter!' he spoke, savoring every word. 'Mister It's-All-About-Me-But-I'm-Too-Thick-And-Noble-To-Admit-It! Hey, I'm Harry Potter,' he mimicked. 'I'm the best thing that happened to this world since chocolate frogs! I'll save your life 'cause I'm such a saint, but that won't stop me from sending your daddy to jail!'

'If there's anything I hate more than people who brag with their vices,' confessed Wera angrily, 'it's people who pride themselves on virtues they don't possess!'

'Absolutely. And have you seen the way he dresses?'

'Yeah. Like he's color blind. Not to mention his taste in women that's probably even worse than his sense of humor…'

Deep inside, Draco was ecstatic. He hadn't hoped for this date to be such fun. He was, for the first time in years, free to do one of his favorite things in this world – insult Potter. Sharing it with someone else made it an even more exquisite experience.

'Excuse me,' he turned to Wera, 'but, just out of curiosity, which house in Hogwarts were you sorted at?'

The girl responded with a crooked smile.

'Gryffindor, I'm afraid. Sorry about that.'

'What on earth were you doing there?'

'Feeling like I don't belong, I suppose,' Wera shrugged. 'Listen, why don't we leave this place and go for a stroll somewhere else, like in your beloved muggle world? There's no way anyone will recognize you there. Come on, I think I know a place you might enjoy.'

XXX

It was a strange place you paid to enter filled with peculiar black objects arranged in rows and, further down the compartments of the building, weird cutouts of approximately human silhouettes. Draco was more puzzled than he was disgusted.

'This is a place where you can shoot for your own amusement,' Wera explained patiently, 'and this muggle device – take it, but be careful – is called a gun. Just follow the instructions on how to load it – there… and once it's loaded, it shoots out a bullet, a small piece of metal into the air. But to do so, you'll need to pull this trigger here – no, not now… The goal is to hit those targets over there. Do you see those things that look like people?'

Draco held the gun as if it was as harmless as a balloon.

'I dunno,' he said suspiciously, 'this seems a bit pointless. What do the small metal pieces do?'

'They produce nasty lethal wounds into the bodies of the people you shoot. They kill people, stupid.'

'But these are not real people.'

'That's the beauty of it. You get to give vent to your rage without earning yourself a ticket to Azkaban. How cool is that?'

'Your meaning exactly?'

'Just imagine, pretend these are real people. Someone you hate, for instance. It'll be fun for someone like you. In fact, I can help you. If only that muggle instructor would look away from us for a second…'

Draco drew out his wand and aimed it discreetly at the instructor.

'Imperio!' he whispered, and the instructor immediately strode out of the hall, as if he'd suddenly abandoned all reason. Wera rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

'Okay,' she sighed, 'so much for avoiding Azkaban. Anyway, now that I have the chance…'

She took out her wand as well and pointed it to the nearest target. On the featureless face of the ought-to-be man, a pair of round-framed glasses and a lightning scar appeared.

'There,' the girl said. 'Now you can pretend that it's Potter. Do your best.'

Draco wasn't doing well at all, like any wizard using a muggle weapon for the first time, but he was enjoying himself to the fullest. Wera was increasingly amused when soon the entire place echoed with shrieks such as "Take that, Potter!", "You won't be riding a broom anytime soon", "How's being the chosen one gonna help you now?", "and "What's the matter, Potter? You have a hole in your brain? Don't worry, no one will ever notice." The passionate hate discussion continued when Draco and Wera were a long way away from the crime scene. Draco was so happy he was waving his wand in all possible directions and everywhere they passed, windshields of cars shattered to pieces, bulbs on street lamp-posts exploded and alarms were triggered off.

'The last one was a really great one, wasn't it?' Draco boasted, brimming with joy. 'Did you see it? Right in the stomach!'

'Liver was more like it,' Wera uttered with a small smile. 'I was wrong about you, Malfoy. You're not so bad. You just need to vent a lot of negative energy, and once you do, you become just a regular unbearably obnoxious bloke. It's actually fascinating to see – WILL YOU STOP DESTROYING THE MUGGLE WORLD, YOU IDIOT? WE'LL GET ARRESTED!'

'Calm down, we're wizards,' Draco replied, taking the destruction down a notch. 'But if you insist, I'm done after one last Incendio.'

He gave the silver Ferrari beside him an idle kick, just to make a statement.

To her own disbelief, Wera felt oddly charmed by his childish passion for causing mayhem.

'You don't get to do what you want very often, do you?' she said softly when they chose to sit at the front stairs of an unfamiliar muggle hospital. Draco shrugged, his face slightly flushed with excitement, to the extent a Malfoy's face could possess any color.

'It depends,' he replied distractedly. 'Usually, I have to discuss matters with my family first.'

'I hear you. My parents keep me on a very tight leash as well. They always wanted to control me, I could never choose for myself. Very overprotective, but they often go too far in that aspect. I went through too much trouble with them just because I had an interest in magic. If they knew I was a witch, they'd kill me. They couldn't handle it. Muggles, you know. It's not like I don't care for them, but they just don't get it.'

'Is that why you're not proud of being a mudblood?'

'I regret it every day of my life. I never had a say in my life because of my parents.'

'I have that problem with my folks too,' Malfoy confessed. 'I guess that's why I enjoy breaking rules so much.'

'You don't say.'

'My parents are very strict, especially my father,' Draco continued in a distant voice. 'He just loses it sometimes, big time. He always tells me to be strong, and when I'm not, well… let's just say I've received plenty of smacks across the face,' he finished grimly.

Wera's eyes blinked warm and compassionate against Draco's face.

'I understand,' she replied, and ventured to pat him soothingly on the hand. 'My father would beat me quite often too. It was really humiliating. Not to mention my ex muggle boyfriend; he wasn't too different. It's the magic, you see; they don't believe in it, but they feel it, and something in them wants to crush it. That's why I don't like muggles – most of them try to destroy everything they don't understand. No wonder I was beaten so much.'

She smiled sadly. Draco found her absolutely enchanting. The problem with Draco, however, was that although he was not entirely evil, he had a good side and a bad side. The problem with that was that his bad side usually prevailed.

'Well, I wouldn't be surprised,' he attempted to sound witty at her expense, but that was a big mistake. 'You're a mudblood, you deserve to be beaten.'

The girl's hand withdrew from his quicker than it would if his hand was on fire. She looked straight into his eyes, and for the first time Draco saw she didn't appear angry, but tired, disappointed and hurt instead. He felt as if a block of ice was sinking down his stomach.

'That wasn't a very nice thing to say, was it?' Wera uttered in a quiet, hollow voice. 'I know you're a stuck-up rich brat, but I'm not saying that just because of that you deserve to be abused by your father.'

It took mere seconds for Draco to realize the cruelty of what he had said. It all came to him in a flash – the horror, the beatings, the humiliation, the agony of living with parents you equally loved and feared… There wasn't a chance this girl deserved to be beaten, even though she was a mudblood. She was nicer to him than anyone he'd ever treated this way. What hurt him even more than this thought, however, was the realization that he probably deserved his share of being beaten after all.

Suddenly, without any warning, and to Wera's utter surprise, he burst out crying. The recent pain he'd been feeling had come over him altogether and that was more than he could bear.

'Don't mind me,' he whimpered through the uncontrollable sobs. 'I deserve it, all of it. I'm a bastard, I can't help it, it's in my blood… I just don't know who I am anymore…'

Wera watched him cry with mixed feelings for a while. Finally, her softer side – which she hated – prevailed. She sighed, angry with herself, and gently pulled Draco's head towards her shoulder to soothe him.

'Bugger,' she muttered. 'OK, that's enough… You don't have to do this. It's alright… You hear me? It's OK. Don't worry. See, I'm not mad or anything. Damn… It'll be alright, man, no one is getting beaten right now. Listen, let's change the subject. Do you duel? Hmm? Do you like dueling? We should duel sometime. I suck at it. You're sure to win. Okay? Come on, there's nothing to be upset about…'

Draco sobbed continuously. Wera was patting him awkwardly on the back. He no longer felt like Draco Malfoy; instead, he was now a vulnerable structure, a soft, confused creature. His tears slowly subsided, but he instinctively remained curled up in the girl's arms, like a child yearning for safety. Wera nervously looked the street up and down. The people passing by were eyeing them oddly, as they sat at the hospital stairs while Draco was still letting out small whimpers. They probably thought he'd just discovered he had cancer.

When he finally managed to calm down, Draco was clearly embarrassed and convinced this was the worst thing he'd done so far. Fortunately for him, his date thought rather the opposite.

'I suppose this date is over,' he muttered gloomily in Wera's general direction.

'Well, you'd better get some rest, that was quite a day for you,' the girl replied. 'Besides, you don't want to get in trouble with your parents right now. It's hard enough being a Death Eater, I imagine. But we can meet again tomorrow, if you're not busy. Same time, different place?'

'What? I'm sorry?'

'No need to be sorry. I had a great time. Besides, you'll still need to piss off your parents some day, and I'm up for it if they're abusive jerks.'

'Yes… of course… my parents.'

'OK, so how does Hogwarts grounds sound? If you're Slytherin enough to sneak up there, of course.'

'Sure. No problem.'

'Fine, then. Hey, don't feel too bad about what happened. I'm a mudblood, I deserve it.'

'Right… Okay. See you tomorrow, mudblood.'

Wera was oddly pleased to notice Draco didn't speak with venom in his voice; instead, this time the word "mudblood" had a softer, nearly affectionate sound.

When Draco went home, he was so thrilled he could scream. No, this girl was definitely not like the other mudbloods, or like the other Gryiffindors. What a shame she had to be both! She was nothing like what he'd expected. She was bitter, and sarcastic, and witty, and yet so kind and warm and forgiving, and charming, and she hated Potter, and though Draco didn't say it out loud, she looked ravishing in a black dress – the way her small thin figure moved, the way her pale skin and dark hair made her gentle but unyielding face and her graceful yet determined features emanate such dark Slytherin beauty. And her eyes, full of pain and willpower and kindness and fire and all these things he couldn't name or figure out… a complete mystery… and her curves so distinct for a woman so thin – no, Malfoy, don't think about that… And did he mention she hated Potter? That meant she wasn't one of his dumb sheepish followers and she didn't just blindly love good for good's sake. But she saw some good in him, even though he'd been a complete arsehole to her…

He lay in his bed, closing his eyes in vain, knowing he wouldn't manage to fall asleep. Astoria Greengrass could wait for another spoiled prince. He knew what he wanted and how to take control of his life again; he'd seen the snitch and knew how to catch it – and this time Potter wasn't an obstacle. Oh, but this time he, Malfoy, would play better, much better; he'd do all in his power not to miss this chance, which could have been his last. No more screw-ups.

Someone had once said love was not a competition. His parents, of course, knew this was complete nonsense. Why else would they stay married throughout all these years? Draco knew this was a tough game and he admittedly was a little scared to keep on playing.

But he was more than determined to win.


	5. Chapter 5: Someone Like You

**Chapter five**

**Someone Like You**

"Mother, I have a date with a mudblood."

The words left his lips soundlessly. He was trying to see what they would look like on his reflection in the mirror.

So far, not so good.

He tried again.

"Mother, I have a bit of a date with a bit of a mudblood."

Possibly even worse.

"But she's not like the other mudbloods."

Tragic.

"Mother, I have a date with a mudblood, but please don't tell Father 'cause he'll skin me alive if he knows. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill me either."

It couldn't sound worse than that, but he had to take his chances. He couldn't lie to his mother forever, that'd kill him. For his father, he could make an exception. If he had Narcissa on his side, she could help cover things up for him in front of Lucius. Not likely, but still… Draco took a deep breath, left his room and went downstairs to tell his mother. His father was still at work.

'Finally, dear,' Narcissa welcomed him into the living room. 'How's my grown-up boy today?'

'Great, Mother, like every other day,' smiled Draco. His mother beamed at him, seeing him surprisingly cheerful this afternoon. It didn't happen often. She assumed it had something to do with Astoria.

'You said you wanted to talk to me about something,' Narcissa pulled up a chair to be closer to her son and sat impatiently. She pointed to the chair next to him. 'Sit, dear, sit. Tell me everything. I'm all ears. Is it some sort of personal success? I see a glimmer in your eye, isn't that right?'

'Kind of,' Draco nodded nervously at his mother's wide prying smile. 'Mother – Mother, do you know that feeling when you're happy about something, but you don't know if you should say it out loud for fear it might get… ruined? And you're nervous because it may have downsides?'

Talking about feelings wasn't looked well upon in Malfoy Manor, but today Narcissa was ready to overlook that.

'Of course, dear,' she said, still beaming, yet a bit concerned. 'What is this about? Come on, you can tell me anything!'

Draco took another deep breath. His mother was tense but responsive. It was now or never.

'They've accepted my application at the Ministry. But I have to work after hours the first few weeks to prove I can handle the position.'

Draco felt relieved – this had nothing to do with the truth, but at least it sounded good. He wasn't relieved for long, though, because Narcissa sprang up and squeezed him into a suffocating embrace. But it was worth it – she wouldn't suspect a thing.

At least not until Lucius noticed his son wasn't showing up at the Ministry like he should.

XXX

'Sorry about yesterday,' Draco was saying to Wera later that day. 'I guess I just got… carried away.'

'It's okay, I get the way work – when you're happy, you're evil,' the girl replied without a trace of menace. 'I guess I could handle evil for a while longer.'

They were sitting atop the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts, enjoying the light evening breeze and the view below. Draco loved heights, at least when Potter wasn't around to ruin things for him. Wera, on the other hand, was sitting close beside him, because as a muggleborn she believed in the power of gravity and she knew what it could do to her if she leaned over the edge too much.

Today, she had decided to wear jeans and a T-shirt, since formal wear was clearly not her cup of tea. Draco was seeing her wear short sleeves for the first time. She had a tattoo on each arm just below the shoulder. One resembled a symbol for an occult summoning spell; the other one was a rather creepy skulled heart. Both, as he understood, were somewhat connected to a dark past. Te heart tattoo had been intended for a former boyfriend – a muggle – and Wera had explained it was much more shameful than to bear than a Dark Mark. We all have marks we're ashamed of, she'd said, and added she wasn't proud of any of her affiliations with muggles. Draco shrugged at the thought of the tattoos. He himself had a Dark Mark, so who was he to judge her? He decided they made the girl look like a rock star. Besides, if a girl appeared too good and rule-abiding, she was no good for him.

'I take it your parents still don't know about our fake dates?' Wera asked.

'They will soon, trust me,' said Draco, discouraged. 'They might be a bit more pissed off than I intended. Anyway, let's drop the dark subject regarding parents. Tell me about the muggle world. How much does it suck? Oh, and just so you know, if you say something good about it, I'll pretend to be interested, but I won't listen to you at all.'

Wera laughed.

'It sucks badly enough,' she agreed with a small smile. 'Trust me, you pureblood wizards aren't missing out on much. Your world was my salvation. I only ever felt like I belong within it. Of course, not everything is bad there… they don't burn witches anymore… much. They also have some really good music – yes, I know you're not listening – like punk, which, you'll probably like, what with your affinity for rebellion and chaos. There's also at least one muggle invention wizards could use in their world…'

'Really?' Draco sneered. 'I'm really pretending to be curious.'

'Well,' the girl began shyly, 'there's condoms, for instance.'

'I'd expected you to say guns. What are condoms?'

'Hmm… I'll tell you, but you must promise not to laugh… much.'

Carefully and as innocently as possible, Wera gradually explained to Draco the essence and use of the glorious invention called a condom.

When she was done, Draco stared at her in horror. His face indicated that his entire world had just been shattered to pieces.

'Eww!' he protested. 'That's disgusting! I mean, do you really… goodness… filthy muggles… How can they…? And it honestly goes… you-know-where?! Bugger this, I've heard enough!'

To his shame, Wera started laughing.

'Oh, come on,' she attempted to appease him, 'I know it doesn't sound very pleasant, but it's the most common birth control method, and wizards are certainly not big on birth control. Think how much better the world would be if Potter had never been born…'

'B-but they… they put it…'

'There are worse things muggles do. Some condoms are fruit-flavored. Try figuring _that_ out.'

'Shuttup,' yelped Malfoy, covering his ears. 'This will be my new boggart, I tell you. This is like a system to kill babies!'

'Shame the Dark Lord doesn't know about it, then. He could have found it useful.'

They both stared idly into the night sky, pretending to ignore each other. Wera was enjoying the moment, not trying to think about the future. Draco was trying not to think about condoms.

'So,' he ventured to start talking again when the thought had faded away, 'if the muggle world was so bad, then why didn't you just leave it forever? Why must there a part of you that lives on there?'

'You're making me sound like a horcrux,' Wera grinned warmly at him. 'Well, the truth is, I can't. I can't abandon my family; I love them too much – don't ask me why. Besides, even if I didn't, I can't be disconnected with the part of me that lives there. And no one will ever let me be here and here alone. That's why I've dated muggles, you see – because, in both worlds, I live half a life. And I can only share half a life with anyone. For most muggles, that's more than enough, but no wizard deserves to have his heart broken like that by someone like me. That's why I can't really be with a wizard – 'cause I'm only halfway here, understand?'

Draco was silent, but his mind was working rapidly.

'If I find someone like you,' Wera began, and then instantly blushed, '– I mean, a wizard, then, in order to be faithful to him, I'll have to remain a spinster in the muggle world, where I'll never be able to introduce my wizard partner to my family; I'd have to keep it all a secret, live a lie, a lonely lie, a pointless life, 'cause I won't really be there to live it to the fullest, and maybe end up in a mental institution should anyone suspect what I believe,' the girl spoke sadly. 'It won't work…'

Draco felt like he was more familiar with her situation than she thought.

'… but if you give it all up and live the life you hate, instead of trying to have – even if to an extent – what you dream of,' he pointed out cleverly, 'you wouldn't be much happier either. Don't tell me you dream of a husband who'll beat you for being weird and the best you'll do in his company is to pray one day you'll have squib children so that he won't beat them for being magical too? It can be better. I mean,' Draco added rather bravely, 'perhaps I know how you feel. Perhaps, if I were to meet – um, someone like you – I mean, a mudblood, but say I like her, and I can never tell my parents… Is this a good reason for me to throw it all away and live a life I despise?'

'Well, do you have any better suggestions for myself?' Wera asked hollowly. Draco glanced secretly at her.

'Well… maybe there is a way. Maybe there is someone who is willing to live this half-life with you. No matter what the cost. Half is better than nothing, right? Maybe you can have a life here and there at the same time.'

Wera sighed and shook her head.

'Right… like that's ever going to happen.'

'How do you know?'

'I just do,' she replied stubbornly, and looked up, gloomy and weary, at the starry sky. 'It's not just that. I've been hurt and damaged so much in my life, you've no idea. People change for the worse in such situations. I'm not much fun to be around.'

'I beg to differ,' Malfoy disagreed.

'Look,' Wera retorted sharply, 'believe it or not, I've got more darkness in my little pinky than you've seen in your whole life. I'm difficult. I've dreamed of killing people, and enjoyed it –'

'No wonder, if you were beaten for being a witch…'

'Point is, even if I was perfect, who'd be dumb enough to condemn himself to this cursed life with me?'

She was so upset now that rain had started falling from the night sky just over the two of them. Draco moved closer to her, meeting her eyes with the most sincere, pure and sympathetic gaze he could muster, and told her tensely:

'I would.'

He braced himself, plucked up the little courage his Slytherin ancestors had in their veins, leaned gently towards her pale white face and prayed to Salazar that she would get the hint…

Alas, just when he felt perfectly ready to kiss her, she turned away.

'You have no idea what you're talking about,' Wera muttered coldly. Draco lowered his head in disappointment.

'I just wish you wouldn't have to live in misery,' he said quietly. He drew out his wand, waved it a few times, and gradually the raindrops falling over his date started transforming into white rose petals. Wera scoffed at this gesture, but couldn't help smiling through her gloom.

'Thanks.'

Awkward silence fell upon them. They stared pointedly in the distance again.

'Oh, look,' Malfoy shouted unexpectedly. 'Look, mudblood! A shooting star!'

'That's an airplane, you idiot.'

Draco grunted.

'Can't you stop being smart for a second? Wait, is it me, or does that airplane look strangely like mistletoe?'

'Forget it. It's not Christmas.'

With a tender gentlemanly gesture, Draco placed his hand around the girl's waist.

'Please,' he attempted his best to muster a proper kind attitude, 'if my company is unpleasant to you, just say so.'

Wera groaned in infinite irritation.

'No, it isn't,' she replied tensely, 'even though you are. But doesn't anything I said get into your blond head? I told you why I can't – WILL YOU STOP THAT?' she pulled his hand away from her waist, then clutched both his hands into hers, and placed them on the surface of the rooftop so they wouldn't wander any longer. 'There!' she triumphed. 'No more touching! What are you going to do now?'

Draco's current expression resembled that of a lost, abandoned puppy. The thing about his eyes was, they were indeed grey, cold and dishonest, but they could also evoke massive amounts of sympathy in nearly anyone of the female gender, starting with his mother. When he was a child, this ability had been very useful to him.

Wera couldn't believe she was going softer upon seeing this ridiculous sight. The worst of it was that he wasn't faking it. Draco looked so wretched and vulnerable as though if he didn't get any affection right now, he'd die, and he most likely believed it. Goddamned manipulator, Wera thought.

'You know what?' she spoke, but her rage was more wavering than before. She still held his hands in hers. 'You act like you're so cruel and confident and stuff, but you're really just so unbelievably naïve, like a child who believes in fairytales and happy endings… Problems aren't just solved with a wave of a magic wand, you know, and for the record, I have a problem!'

'What's your problem?' Draco uttered innocently.

Wera hesitated.

'You are,' she replied, trembling.

It was then that Draco used the opportunity to kiss her, while they were still holding hands. Taken by surprise, the girl couldn't do much to resist it. Shyly and tenderly, she kissed him back, and Draco knew that if this had been a game of Quidditch, Slytherin would have already won the Quidditch Cup.

A few seconds later – about eighty, to be precise – Wera withdrew from the young man's lips as though she'd been electrocuted.

'Um, okay, this fake date just got a bit too real,' she said, breathing tensely. 'We should go; your folks will murder you.'

She shouldn't have underestimated the forces of attraction, she knew that now. And the force of Malfoy's persistence.

'No more fake dates, then?' Draco asked faintly.

Wera stood up on the rooftop, this time underestimating the force of gravity.

'No.'

'Oh.'

'Of course, if you insist on going on real ones… you'll have to be really careful,' the girl added coldly, avoiding his eyes. 'Not just with your parents. I mean, just look around. We could die when you take me to places like this. Or worse.'

'Worse than dying?' asked Draco, beaming like a blond midnight sun. 'What's that?'

'What just happened.'


	6. Chapter 6: The Room Of Requirement

**Chapter six**

**The Room Of Requirement**

During the next few days, Draco was convinced that there was a force out there that wanted them to be together. Lucius' departure to Russia for a week on Death Eater negotiation business had to be more than a mere coincidence. It gave Draco time until his father was back to try to solve the problem with telling his parents about Wera. Naturally, he didn't spend his time thinking. Instead, he went on numerous other dates with his new secret girlfriend, throughout which they had fun, dueled, danced, ate ice-cream, exchanged evil glares, listened to really loud music, vandalized muggle streets (in Draco's case), stole things from stores (in Draco's case again) and – that one memorable time – snogged. Draco even had to force himself to think morbid thoughts every hour he spent at home so his mother would suspect nothing of his inexplicable happiness. It was getting harder and harder to contain himself. This girl just seemed to have a way with him – she didn't spoil him yet she didn't bring him down, she didn't control him, and nor could he control her – and he didn't want to. Wera didn't have to be another one of his possessions. She'd warned him about her – yet there wasn't a single thing about her that Draco disliked. Her harsh, often sarcastic attitude only challenged him. Her hidden inner darkness only made her appear more attractive to him. Draco was sinking into a feeling that was no longer in his control, and he didn't mind at all.

Wera, on the other hand, had a harder time coming to terms with the realization of the changes inside her. She'd spent half of her conscious life hardening her heart, learning to be strong, for the heart she'd started out with was far too mild. Now she was feeling her old heart coming back and she was disgusted with both her past and present self – the present one, for going soft again, the past – for having been dark and frozen all this time. It was about time someone showed her there was more to life than suffering and betrayal.

But why did it have to be Draco Malfoy? Wera had despised spoiled, rude, snotty, overconfident rich brats like himself all her life; they'd made a big part of her past a nightmare and were the reason she became so mistrusting and unsure of herself. And now, she was falling for traits she once hated. She was growing fonder of Malfoy's flaws than of his qualities. And what an abundance of flaws he had! They all were beginning to appear strangely charming. Wera only had to see him walk up to her, with that narcissistic swag of his that made his slim figure sway rather than advance; that laid-back, devil-may-care walk he had mastered so well that it was probably magic that he managed to stride confidently and carelessly and still appear elegant and graceful; that stuck-up pale pointy face with an equally pointy nose and a chin constantly up, to indicate he was better than everyone else; a determined pace he carried out as if he owned the ground beneath his feet; his eyes barely open, implying that no one deserved his attention. How revolting is that, Wera thought. And yet her heart couldn't help but leap as these cold grey eyes lit up and gleamed every time they saw her; how his usually malignant smile widened and acquired a softer air about it; how his shrill laughter made for ridiculing others rang cheerfully underneath the midday sun which made his hair attain an even brighter shade of blond… It was good and it was bad, it was vulnerable and fun and gentle and evil, that creature she got to know; it was skinny and scared, full of energy and completely unpredictable, it was a never-ending list of contradictions – and it was all Malfoy. Wera had a hard time describing what he was, but he was authentic and real, unlike most people she knew. He was arrogant, mischievous, damaged and he never pretended he wasn't – and he acted like he was completely mad for her. Being with Malfoy was a lot of things, but it was never ever dull.

Wera had a small place for rent it wizard London she shared with some friends, but Malfoy wasn't one of the things she was ready to share with anyone, and meeting at Malfoy Manor was out of the question. So the couple eventually started arranging their dates to be in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts (since his sixth year there, Draco had a way of getting in and out of the castle whenever he wished), the beauty of which was that the Room got to be different every time. Tonight, it was a battlefield for pillow fights.

Wera glanced at Draco and beamed. She was so proud of her one-week achievement. With a lot of encouragement she'd gotten Draco used to wearing T-shirts in the summer again, something he hadn't done in public since he'd got his Mark. Of course, he still stuck to black and the Slytherin colors only, but it was still an improvement – he no longer looked like a funeral agent, but like the young man he was instead. Some things were not liable to change, though. Draco's fingers were still adorned with priceless silver rings, inherited Black and Malfoy family relics. The belts he wore were still covered with eerie silver skulls, snakes and pretty much anything a true Slytherin would wear. Even if he didn't have a Dark Mark, one would know Malfoy was a Death Eater by simply taking a look at his accessories. Wera was infinitely amused by that thought, but she didn't want to change a thing about him. "Face it, Wera", she'd say to herself. "He'll never stop calling you a mublood. He'll never stop being a Slytherin and proud of it. He'll never stop being rude, cynical, snobbish and arrogant and he'll never stop using unforgivable curses for meaningless reasons. I mean, he even uses tiny Crucio-s on you sometimes, just to get your attention. You can't take him and tame him and turn him into a good boy; that'd be a crime against his personality. The question is, are you willing to accept and like him the way he is. And if you are, shut your mouth and take your tiny Crucio."

While she was thinking all that, she took a pillow to the face instead.

'Ow!' Wera shouted. 'You son of a bitch!'

'What did you call me, mudblood?' Draco grinned evilly and aimed another pillow at his girl.

'I'm only being fair,' Wera fired back, and ducked to avoid the attack. 'Technically, neither of us is really insulting the other. 'I _am_ a mudblood, and you _are_ the son of a… well, a mean, cold-hearted woman… These are the facts.'

'Oh really?' Draco retorted, and flung himself towards the girl to tackle her in a friendly Slytherin fight. Fighting Wera – allegorically and literally – was one of his favorite pastimes. 'I'll show you the facts about your Defense against the Dark Arts skills!'

'I don't doubt it, you're such a vile Dark creature, and I'm defenseless against you… or am I?'

The fifteen-minute friendly fight (with many unfair moves from Malfoy) had them exhausted and heated up and lying on the floor in the Room of Requirement next to each other, catching their breaths.

'What do you like about me, honestly?' asked Draco at some point, rolling sideways closer to Wera on the wooden floor. 'It's not what I usually show, I'm sure. But you saw through me from the very first dance. So what did you see?'

'Hmm,' Wera replied with a small, soft smile, 'a serious question from Mr Malfoy… Very well, then… I like the fact that you're so many things, and the ones that aren't seen on the surface are the most important ones. I like that deep inside you're not a bad person. Unlike me, you don't have the potential to be truly evil. You have a warm heart, even though there's room in it for very few people… You're complicated and somewhat tragic, you know. You have this inner struggle about you I like so much…'

'Oh, I'll give you an inner struggle!' Draco exclaimed joyously, and charged with the pillow once again, but then stopped himself mid-attack. 'So you do care for me, then?'

'No, you idiot, I'm purposelessly embarrassing myself in front of you. What do you think?'

'But how much?' greedily insisted Draco. 'OK, I'll give you that situation,' Malfoy put on his thinking face, which was disturbingly similar to his plotting face. 'Question: if you had to choose between me and a muggle, who would you choose?'

'You, of course,' Wera replied readily.

'And if you had to choose between me and someone else from the wizarding world?'

'You, obviously.'

'And – this is the tough part – if Potter and I were the last two men on the planet, which of us would you choose?'

'Oh, for God's sake!' Wera was getting exasperated. 'Even if I didn't know you at all and knew Potter was the alternative, I'd choose you instantly.'

'Wait, but what if it's just us two to choose from and he's single AND madly in love with you?'

Wera burst out laughing.

'What is it with you and Potter?' she shouted in disbelief. 'Why do you have a Potter complex? One would think _he_ was the one who bullied you in school, not the other way around. How many times do I have to tell you I hate him?'

'But he's the chosen one…' Malfoy mumbled rather childishly.

Wera was tired of rolling her eyes in irritation. She turned to Draco, held his face in her hands, and spoke softly:

'Listen,' she began, 'I don't care if Potter brings me five thousand galleon flowers daily and he looks like brad Pitt; I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole.'

'Who's Brad Pitt?'

'Never mind. The point is, Draco, I don't care if he's the chosen one,' the girl assured him, and was surprised to hear the words that followed from her own mouth: 'You're the chosen one for me. I chose you. Out of all the others – you. Do you get it?'

'Wait… I'm the chosen one?' Draco muttered.

'My chosen one, yes.'

Malfoy said nothing. He was looking at Wera as if he was seeing her for the first time.

'Really?' he whispered in awe. Wera felt oddly flattered. 'Where have you been all my life?' said Draco in an unusually soft voice.

'In Gryffindor,' Wera smiled vaguely, 'with all the losers, I suppose.'

She leaned over him as they lay on the floor, and kissed him. It was their first truly tender, loving, dedicated and consuming kiss. It felt like a first kiss, even though it was one of the many; it spun the world around them, intoxicated them and filled their hearts with genuine affection. When Wera opened her eyes, Draco was lying peaceful and motionless beneath her, his eyes filled with a look so sensitive and emanating an emotion so touching Wera could hardly believe this was the Draco Malfoy she knew. Suddenly, she felt as if she was seeing him for the first time as well; not the arrogant bastard that made her laugh, but a creature in all its unhinged beauty, as if she was seeing him stripped down to his very soul. She saw his tender, pointed, slightly feminine features, his milk-white, sweet-scented skin, the scent of a child rather than a grown- man; his soft, relaxed, and downright girly lips; his eyes, glistening, moist and emotional; his pale neck, throbbing slightly with his enhanced pulse… With his white-blond hair, pale complexion and even paler eyes he looked not so much like a regular boy but rather like the son of a northern goddess or an ice queen (which was, in a manner of speaking, true after all). Wera was not prepared to realize he appeared so beautiful to her. Apparently, Malfoy was experiencing the same, judging by the way he stared at the mudblood.

The Room of Requirement immediately reacted to their emotions. The lights faded and died out, the moonlight shone in through a nearby window, and what the couple was lying on that had started out as a floor transformed into a large and frightfully pink bed. A bird song was heard in the distance.

Instead of rejoicing, Draco and Wera exchanged glances of sheer terror. They lay underneath the pink sheets, petrified.

'What did you do?' echoed Draco's voice in the dark.

Wera turned to him, appalled.

'What did I do? For your information, pink is far from _my_ favorite color! What's this?'

'It's like the Room wants us to – '

'It can't be.'

'Not unless you want to – '

'Why me? Do _you_ want to…?'

'Well…'

Silence ensued interrupted only by the faintest chirping of birds, the distant aroma of flowers and the sound of two people trying hard not to blush. Wera wondered painfully how many Hogwarts students had used the Room of Requirement for this purpose prior to them. She didn't want to know the answer.

On the other hand, it was peaceful and quiet here. It was Hogwarts – the safest place on earth, more or less. And no one would find them…

Why not?

'Did you just say this out loud?' Malfoy's voice echoed nervously in the Room again.

He didn't sound confident at all anymore. In fact, he'd never appeared this insecure in front of Wera.

'What's wrong?' Wera whispered in the magical – literally magical – atmosphere. As usual, she followed Malfoy's example and decided to stare at the ceiling.

'I just don't know if this is a good idea,' Draco uttered.

'Do you have any better ones?'

'Well, it's just that I... I mean, it is best we acted chastely… um, to show respect for each other, and patience, and…'

His conscience was desperately battling his anatomy.

'I agree,' Wera decided after a long, tense pause. 'It was a stupid idea. Let's get out of here.'

No one moved a muscle.

'Oh, bugger,' Draco sighed. 'Here's the plan: you Imperio me, I Imperio you.'

Wera was shocked.

'To do what?'

'To not do anything!' Malfoy tried in vain to hide the panic in his voice.

'Brilliant! ...Oh no, I can't practice an unforgivable curse on you! Now what?'

They shared another pause filled with hesitation.

'You should know, just as a perfectly random warning,' Malfoy began apologetically, 'that you cannot count on me to be a very good person. If you get my drift. So…'

'Nonsense,' Wera disagreed. 'You're the best man I've ever met.'

Even in this situation, her voice had immense soothing power over him.

Draco didn't reply. He knew perfectly well that everything he'd been feeling from the moment he'd first met this girl had been building up right up to this moment; he just wished it was otherwise. He was clueless about the fact that Wera was feeling the same, but even if he knew, it wouldn't make him feel any more confident. He knew what was expected of him; he simply didn't think he was able to carry it out well enough.

His thoughts were interrupted by the girl's face an inch away from his. In the moonlight, she was even more darkly beautiful. She kissed his forehead gently, and spoke to him in a voice loving and encouraging:

'It's really alright. Trust me. I told you – I chose you and you alone.'

She wrapped her arms tenderly around Draco's neck and waited for him to feel safe in her embrace. His lips sought hers and found them, meanwhile whispering questions and confessions in the dark.

'How can you feel so calm about this, mudbl – I mean, aren't you nervous?'

'To my surprise, no. I'm calm because you make me feel calm. I trust you completely.'

'Sorry about nearly calling you a mudblood there, mudblood.'

'You just did.'

'Sorry.'

'It's okay.'

'Look, I… I want this to be perfect, but… I just… don't know how to touch you,' the young man admitted weakly, looking away.

'Well… the same way you have every other girl before me, I suppose,' Wera uttered in response. One could roast sausages on the tension in the air between them.

'That's really not an option.'

'Come on, man, it can't be that bad…'

'There is no way I'd settle for a "not that bad" when it comes to you, mud – '

He stopped himself mid-word again. Draco's last statement slowly made his way to his mind. The realization made him feel increasingly unsure of himself. It wouldn't be enough to just do what he was familiar with when it came to this girl; she deserved to be given something he feared he didn't possess any longer. She craved, Draco knew, a certain purity he knew to have buried within himself long ago. More than anything in the world, he wanted to give Wera the best of himself – but to do that, he had to get rid of all his disguises, tear down all his defenses, strip himself of all the falsities he daily hid behind ever since he was, probably, seven… And when those were gone, would they reveal anything innocent left in him? Was the part of him still capable of getting hurt and feeling something as untarnished as what he felt for Wera capable of expressing these feelings as well? How could he touch her without staining her with the blood of former sins on his hands? He needed to grace her with a touch so pure no human being could ever possess…

The Room was doing its best to help him succeed. The unseen birds chirping somewhere in the distance continued their enchanting lullaby. Feathers and flower petals occasionally fell from the ceiling, or the magical wind in the Room drew them closer to its two occupants.

Draco held his palm open and let one of the bird feathers land on it. Then, he let out a loving breath in its direction and the feather flew over to Wera, falling lightly on her pale skin. Carefully, cautiously, as though he was performing a sacred act, Draco slowly directed the feather across the girl's body with his breath. It seemed to Wera, it moved on magic alone. It gently caressed her neck, shoulders, chest and stomach. The girl closed her eyes. Draco did not dare look at her for fear of seeing the beauty of her restless spirit in peace and therefore ruining everything. All he could see was inches of her soft skin over which a single small white feather brushed. The sound of silent rapture fell upon the Room. When Draco finally looked up and saw the entire picture of his girlfriend lying serenely on a bed of satin, the breath stood still in his throat. Wera then carefully pulled him closer to herself and kissed him.

Draco desperately wanted to tell her something special, something beautiful, something that came from the heart; something totally unrelated to his current overwhelming physical experiences and the sudden uninvited thought of the muggle condom baby-killing system…

'I'd love to have a dead baby with you,' his lips voiced out, for the first time, a pure and selfless desire, and they did it terribly, as usual, but Wera saw the true meaning behind his ghastly choice of words.

'There's no one like you,' she responded in a tender voice, and added: 'This was nearly perfect… There's only one thing that can make it better.'

'What's what?' Draco asked, discouraged.

'The feather… I only wish it could be you.'

Draco nodded barely and surrounded his girl with both his arms. From then on, he felt as if he'd discovered a side of his he was never aware of. His hair brushed against the girl's neck as her skin brushed against his. A feeling of uprising bliss unknown to either fell over them both. Draco's fingers discovered new ways to touch, his lips – new ways to taste, his heart discovered new ways to feel another's. In this tender moment, all that was frozen inside of Wera melted; all that was dark cleared away and vanished into the Room without a trace. She felt like a flower about to bloom and her lover shone brighter than a sun through the veil of the night. Her dark melancholic beauty, pale as the moon, was best seen when the light of her sun cast some warmth onto her cold damp skin. Tonight, she didn't have half a heart. Draco felt her respond to his touch wholeheartedly and that gave him the confidence to reveal himself completely. For the next few hours, he was not the rude, immature boy Wera knew and liked. Tonight, he was a gentle man worth loving and living for. He was giving her his very soul – and hers had no choice but to follow its example.

'Draco,' Wera's voice trembled in the middle of a breathtaking, vulnerable moment.

Draco wasn't finding it easy to speak, but still he asked:

'Yes? What is it?'

'Just Draco,' the girl smiled softly, lavishing his face and neck with affectionate, devoted, yearning kisses. He closed his eyes to savor the unforgettable sensation of being loved for who he was and not what he made an effort to be, and he let himself sink completely into it. He loved her – there was no doubt about that. She was his universe now, surrounding him, enveloping him, and he was lost, safe and alive in her embrace…

XXX

Draco was laying still, his hand clasped tightly around Wera's, unable to let go, unable to conceive what he'd just experienced. All he could remember was chaotic feelings, sensations, sounds and images. There was a feather… and a lot of skin… and warmth, and a lovely scent of a lovely woman, and peace, and solace, and fire and breathing and sweat and flowers… He looked around. Why flowers? From each side of the bed, branches had spread which sprouted hundreds of white blossoms falling, trembling or lying around his and Wera's bodies. His black T-shirt and trousers were nowhere to be seen. But none of this caught his eye more than the stunning sight of the girl next to him. He sprang up sitting, turned to her and spoke the moment she did:

'How did you know what I wanted you to say?'

'How did you know what I wanted you to do?'

'Did you use Legilimency on me?'

'In that state? Please! Where did the trees come from?'

'That? Oh, that's just magic overflow. Sometimes it happens, when two wizards… when a wizard and a witch… well, they let out magic unconsciously, you know…'

'Wow, really?'

'But you should know, mudblood – sorry, it slipped my lips… Haven't you been with a wizard… in bed before?'

'I've been in bed next to men, some of them wizards, but, frankly, I haven't really been in bed with anyone in the bed sense… the one we just shared… Ouch!'

Their hands had touched and as they did, a little lightning passed quickly between them.

Draco withdrew his hand as Wera held her electrocuted finger in amazement.

'Sorry,' Draco muttered, 'magic overflow. Wait,' he continued, when something suddenly dawned on him, 'did you just say… that you hadn't… until now… does this mean I'm in fact the first to… Oh, damn it, how could you? You tricked me!'

'What?' Wera shouted, taken by surprise. Malfoy drew his fingers through his hair, the way he did each time he was worried.

'Oh, no… oh, no… you should have mentioned it… I didn't know! Otherwise I'd have… I thought it was okay!'

'It _is_ okay,' Wera beamed at him. 'What more could I ask for? You know, you have so much more virtue in you than you ever show. I like that. I like the way we complete each other: it's like I'm the dark half, and you're the light…'

Draco sighed. The last comment completely disarmed him and erased his anxiety.

'You know,' he graced Wera with half a hesitant smile, 'I see us exactly the other way around.'

There was, yet again, awkward silence.

'Bugger. And I thought nothing good could ever happen to me at Hogwarts.'

'Indeed. I'll never forget that.'

'Me neither.'

'Um… yeah. Now that that's clear, why don't we try to find our clothes and get out of here while everyone is still in bed?'

'Great idea, mudblood. There's just one thing about the clothes issue…'

'What?'

'We might have to use a summoning spell.'


	7. Chapter 7: Cut And Broken

**Chapter seven**

**Cut And Broken**

Draco slept over at Wera's place that night. The next day he could think of nothing but the previous night. It was as if his mind had videotaped the entire event and was playing it over and over in his head in slow motion. He was strolling on his way home absent-mindedly, not even thinking of apparating, and sometimes he bumped into people in the streets. He was lucky not to get hit by a car.

He entered Malfoy Manor with the most blissful smile possible on his face, planning to sneak in bed while his parents were still asleep. Unfortunately, a familiar silhouette was already waiting for him in the atrium. Narcissa Malfoy wasn't in the mood to be a good mother right now. You could tell by the way she tapped her foot on the floor, arms crossed. She was probably imagining to be kicking her son.

'Well, well, well,' she said in a voice sharper than a knife when she saw Draco. 'My ungrateful son returns. Your father's back, just so you know. And he told me something very interesting last night: that they had told him at the Ministry that they were awaiting your application.'

She was being a complete sadist to the words that left her mouth, each word torn away from its brothers and sisters by violent pauses. 'Of course, I covered it all up for you. Didn't say a word about your lie. So don't worry, he's just curious about where you were last night. Of course… I covered up for you… again. Told him you were probably gone practicing black magic. But I fear the truth's rather more horrid. So…' She could cut people up with the way she uttered her words. 'You still need to tell me what the hell you're up to, or I'll bloody well tell your father about it, and, mark my words, boy, you'll regret it!'

Narcissa looked so furious she could be steaming. Draco swallowed hard.

'Unless you plan to lie to your mother… again,' the woman added threateningly. 'I spoke to the Greengrasses. Asked them to search for you. Woke them up in the middle of the night. Astoria never heard of you. So just answer me this simple question: who are you seeing?'

Draco froze. He had no choice but to tell her. It was her or his father.

'Wera Lynson,' he mumbled under his breath.

'Lynson? I don't know any Lynsons! Who is that Lynson girl and why don't I know of her parents?'

Draco sighed and tried to picture his future in a coffin.

'That's because she's not a pureblood, Mother. She's a… she's muggleborn.'

'Oh, I think I can figure that out for myself, dear,' Narcissa's voice was like velvet soaked in poison. 'I can also easily work out why you didn't come home last night. Which is why we will do the following, dear: we'll wait for your father to get up and go to work. Then you'll take me to your mudblood princess and I'll have a little talk with her.'

Draco closed his eyes in terror.

'What'll you say to her?' he asked weakly.

'Not to mess around with her superiors, of course. Trust me, she'll see my point. I can be very persuasive. And I'll personally write to Astoria and arrange you a proper date with her tomorrow. If she'll have you. Otherwise… your father will hear about it. And if he does… you'll get to see your girl again at her funeral – if they find the body. You know what your father's like sometimes. No one would bother to look for the corpse of an unknown mudblood. Okay, sweetheart?'

Draco had his line memorized to the point it hurt to say it.

'Yes, Mother.'

He headed back to his morbid marble prison.

XXX

Wera opened the door of her residence wearing matching shorts and a T-shirt. She was half expecting to see Malfoy, and he was indeed at the door, but he looked pale and terrified, as if he'd seen Death itself. He was not alone; beside him stood a tall, thin and angry-looking woman who shared nearly all of her facial features with Draco. She could only be his mother.

Wera was a bit startled, but restored her calm just in time.

'So you're that Lynson girl, I presume,' Narcissa said icily through gritted teeth. She took one good profound look at the puzzled girl, a look filled with a mixture of condescension and disgust, as if she'd seen something revolting stuck to her shoe that made her want to vomit. 'The mudblood.'

The word Wera was so used to hearing felt heavy and venomous coming from the woman's mouth.

'Well, Draco? That's her, isn't it? I'm a little disappointed; she's not even pretty!'

Draco looked like he was about to cry. He kept casting helpless apologetic glances at Wera.

'Dear Mrs Malfoy,' the girl began hesitantly, 'I know I'm all of the things you listed. But I assure you – '

Narcissa looked down on her with utter contempt.

'The one thing I'd advise you to assure me, mudblood, is that should you give birth to my son's filthy offspring with you, you'll drown it,' Narcissa hissed. 'Or the Malfoy family will have its personal vengeance upon you. Our reputation is shaken enough as it is. We don't need you, and Draco doesn't need you. He's dating Astoria Greengrass now, right, Draco?'

Draco struggled with the words, but, eventually, pale as a corpse, he uttered in resignation:

'Yes, Mother.'

He could barely look at Wera, but hoped desperately his eyes could convey just how much he regretted this and how little he could do about it right now. He prayed Wera would understand he was only doing it for the sake of her safety.

Wera returned his desperate stare insecurely, then looked up at Narcissa, swallowed her first words of choice and said:

'Madam, I'm sorry about the trouble I've caused your family,' were her earnest, imploring words, 'but I assure you I mean no harm…'

'That's too kind,' Narcissa replied blankly. 'The thing is, dear, that _I_ do.'

She drew out her wand in a fraction of a second. It slashed the air in half and, a few seconds later, three long sharp cuts appeared on Wera's leg and blood trickled from them in thin lines.

Wera stared at the cuts in disbelief. Narcissa put away her wand. Draco was shaking. He knew someone like Potter would never know the feeling he was choking on right now: to know that, when someone you care about is in trouble, you can – and _must_ – do nothing to protect them. Draco was all too used to this feeling of helplessness. If he stood up for Wera now, if he let it show that he felt even the slightest concern for her, he'd make her fate even worse.

He lowered his head down to hide the uprising tears of guilt.

'You're not even worth killing,' snarled Narcissa at the girl. 'Let's go, Draco. I'll introduce you to someone actually worth your attention.'

Grabbing his hand abruptly, the woman disapparated with Draco, leaving Wera with her grim thoughts and a painful, bleeding reminder of where her place was – out of the lives of the Malfoy family members.

XXX

_"I see you and my blood begins to boil_

_With you, I can ignore the mortal coil_

_If love is stupid, I am Crabbe and Goyle _

_Because I feel " _

Wera was gloomily going through a few lines Draco had written for her recently. The rest of the last line was scratched out, in the spirit of the Malfoy family rules about never revealing your true feelings. Not that he was ever much of a poet. His lines were, at best, ironic or amusing. But Wera was fond of them anyway. Anyway, it didn't matter now.

She put the piece of paper back into her pocket and pressed the bandages harder to the wounds.

A voice startled her and pulled her back into the real world.

'Now let's go through this again,' the voice said to her. 'You're dating _who_?'

The voice belonged to Hermione Granger. Wera was staying over at the Burrow where Hermione currently lived with Ron Weasley. Hermione had befriended Wera while they were still in school, Wera being one year younger than Hermione. They were still friends, because you couldn't keep two mudblood girls apart when they both shared a passion for reading, studying, telling bullies off and fighting for the victory of good in the world.

Recently, Wera hadn't been so keen on doing the latter. But Hermione was the kind of friend who'd always be there for you in rough times, and this time was certainly one of them.

Wera sighed. Hermione was a good girl, on the good guys' team. She'd never known doubt or an affinity for the darkness the way Wera had. This made it harder for Wera to explain to her how and why she'd got these cuts from Narcissa Malfoy.

'Draco Malfoy,' Wera repeated hollowly. Hermione gave her a look full of concern. 'Dated, anyway.'

'But – ' Hermione began in utter disbelief, 'why? I don't understand… I mean, he's a bully, a Death Eater, he's vile, he hates people like us… What did you see in him? Are you sure he didn't curse you? Maybe he forced you to think you care for him as a cruel joke on a mudblood?'

'No,' Wera replied, 'he's not like that… Okay, he may be like that, but I'm positive I wasn't under any magical influence. I don't even know why I care for him. I seem to love his vices more than I do his virtues. But that's only possible because they're all bound by one main virtue, one that seeps through his very existence. He's not a bad human being, Hermione,' Wera said desperately. Hermione raised an incredulous eyebrow. 'He's mean, and arrogant, and discriminates people like hell, I know, but when it comes down to what's important… he just can't go through with being evil. He has a conscience. He showed me sides of him I never suspected existed. And now,' the girl sighed bitterly, 'I'll never see him again. Except for in the wizarding papers, under titles like: "_HIGH SOCIETY MOMMA'S BOY MALFOY GETS HITCHED WITH RICH BITCH ASTORIA GREENGRASS_."

'Well, good riddance!' said Ron from a nearby chair, looking amused. 'Merlin's underpants, I still can't picture you snogging Malfoy. That's revolting! I'd rather eat Flobberworms.'

'It's not funny, Ron!' Hermione told him off. 'Wera could actually get hurt… more.'

'I'm just about as hurt as I can be,' Wera retorted calmly. 'It's him I'm worried about. His parents will tear him to pieces.'

'So glad I don't have this problem,' Ron mumbled happily mid-chicken.

'Shut up, Ron! Take this seriously! We need to help Wera!' Hermione raised her voice at him.

'We could always kill him and make it look like an accident,' Ron shrugged. 'That way you won't have anyone to worry about.'

'A _proper _plan, Ronald!'

'You're right; we might get caught,' Ron's cheerful disposition didn't change when the two girls in the room stared sternly at him. 'What?' he asked innocently. 'I'm sorry, but I just don't get it! You'll never see Malfoy again – and how is that a problem?'

'Someone's ringing the doorbell,' Wera stated blankly.

'It's probably Harry,' Hermione assumed. 'He must bring interesting news from the Ministry.'

'Wait 'till he hears this one,' Ron grinned and stood up, abandoning the chicken. 'I'll get it, you two girls keep planning how to murder Malfoy.'

When Ron opened the door, he didn't see a friendly face. It was, however, a face dreadfully familiar. The face produced an annoying voice:

'Would you look at that, Weasley. It seems a year after you've finished school you still can't afford to live in a water closet. If you could, it would be an improvement.'

'It's Malfoy,' Ron's exasperated shout rang from downstairs. 'Should I hex him now, or let you two do it?'

Before he'd finished the sentence, the sound of feet thumping down the stairs filled the Burrow. Wera appeared at the door, breathless, followed by Hermione.

'You look awful,' Wera fired at Draco, glancing briefly at his unusually disheveled hair and his pale, peaked face.

'Hello, mudblood,' Malfoy muttered in response. Hermione gasped.

'How dare you?' she snapped, appalled by his behavior. Malfoy stared disdainfully in her direction.

'I wasn't talking to you, mudblood,' he retorted in irritation. 'Mudblood. _Mudblood_. See? There's a difference in the tone.'

'Dream date, isn't he?' Ron cut in sarcastically and glanced at Hermione. Wera ignored them both and turned to Draco:

'How did you find me? And why are you here?'

'Well, I was forced to start working at the Ministry, so I snuck out of there, since my parents don't let me leave home or use owls the rest of the time, and I went to your place, but no one was there… And you'd mentioned you had some friends you'd probably gone to, but I didn't know who they were... So I snuck into Hogwarts as well, browsed through the school's albums and records to find which Gryffindors you might have been close to… and, regrettably, here you are with these two idiots.'

Ron snarled. Hermione held him back, but eyed Malfoy with endless contempt.

'That's not important now,' Wera replied in a hurry. 'What'll your parents do to you when you get back?'

'You told me you hated Potter,' Draco muttered, sounding betrayed. 'Was that a lie, then?'

'_You hate Harry_?' Ron shouted indignantly.

'I just think he's a bit too self-centered, Ron… Please, not now… Draco,' Wera continued worriedly, 'if you go back there, you're a dead man.'

'I can't believe who you're associating with,' Draco grumbled, as if nothing else mattered in the world. Wera felt appropriately angered.

'And who have _you_ been associating with?' she raised her voice at him. 'Astoria "Your-Mom-Approves-Of-Me" Greengrass?'

Before he could respond, Wera slapped Draco heavily across his cheek.

'This is for your mom cutting me!' she yelled. Then, while Draco was still in shock, she punched him in the face with all her strength. 'And this is for Astoria sodding Greengrass!'

Malfoy whined something inarticulate, pressing his bleeding nose with both his hands.

'What do you want now?'

'I said I was running away from home,' Draco whimpered miserably. He'd put on his lost puppy face again. Wera didn't know if he was doing it consciously, but it was bloody infuriating.

'I'm not going back. And since you don't want me here, and neither do they, I'll just try to find a place to stay for tonight… although I've brought along no food… or money… or clothes…'

'God, you're such a little drama queen!' Wera shouted, losing her temper and burying her fingers in her hair. 'Get in here; just shut the bloody hell up!'

Hermione shot a warning look at Ron, after which they all went back into the house. Draco wasn't offered food, but he was allowed pajamas and a napkin for his bleeding nose. There was barely any conversation going on between the four of them. Finally, when they all gave up trying to have a chat, Wera and Draco retreated to Percy Weasley's vacant room, which Hermione had – more or less – kindly offered, and prepared for bed. As Wera turned out the lights, she could feel Draco watching her intently.

'Don't even think about it,' she cut him off before he'd even spoken. 'I only offered you temporary lodging because I care for you. I don't want you to be out in the streets, and I know the Burrow's the last place your folks will look for you at. Besides, I had to see you were okay. But that's all. As for us… I think you know what we had cannot go on.'

Draco froze on spot. These words made chills run down his spine.

'Why not? I can go on,' he said in an anxious, imploring voice, frightened that the little hope he had to preserve his nearly ruined by his mother relationship might fade away. 'That's why I ran away, see?' he added desperately. 'There's nothing for me there if I don't have you.'

'But you won't get to have me for long,' Wera replied hollowly and turned away from him. Her heart was already heavy with guilt about what she was about to do, but she had no choice. 'At least not after you've married Astoria Greengrass.'

'But I don't want to marry Astoria Greengrass!' Draco yelled, his desperation expanding with every second he spent feeling helpless. 'I only said that so my mother wouldn't slice you up to bits!'

'But you will marry her anyway,' Wera's voice was distant and bereft of any hope. 'You won't have a choice. You think now that you've run away, it's forever, and it'll all be okay from now on… How long do you think you'll last without money, without a job that only your parents can arrange?'

'What does it matter?' Draco's voice was thinning with frustration now. 'I'd do anything for you! Why is it so hard for you to see that?'

'I'm not worth all that.'

'What? All this time you believed in me! Why don't you try believing in yourself for a change?'

'What I believe is none of your business!' Wera snarled in response all of a sudden, and for the first time Draco saw this much pain in her eyes, in which dangerous flames were beginning to glisten. 'And you – you believe in impossible things! You're the only person desperate and naive enough to believe I'm worth spending a lifetime with, but believe me when I say you're wrong! This idea is stupid!'

Draco's eyes acquired a cold, disappointed shimmer.

'So you're saying what we've shared so far was stupid?' he asked quietly.

'It was… unreasonable, to say the least. Listen, Malfoy, I warned you from the start. You don't know me; you don't know how I live. My heart is a really unpleasant place all the time… Why bother to be in it? Besides, I can't live this double life anymore. I've been spending too much time in the wizarding world. I'm behind on university work, I need to have a career, I need to start a family… in the muggle world, not here. I don't belong here. I'm leaving tomorrow, to live with my parents as a muggle. I've decided.'

'But – ' Malfoy's eyes were swelling with tears once more. Then, suddenly, Wera snapped.

'Don't you see? Don't you see ANYTHING?' she shrieked in his face, tears flowing from her eyes as well. 'It's not just that my parents would never allow it – my WORLD would never allow it! That's right, Malfoy! _My_ world! Your world, regrettably, isn't mine. We're worlds apart!'

'We're just one world apart,' cried Draco. 'What's so – '

'Do you think it'll be easy, Draco, knowing I'll never get to introduce you to my parents, or any of my muggle friends? I'll have to keep you a secret forever, from my whole world! I'll have to lie, and miss out on my life with the people I know, and pretend you don't exist and try not to go crazy! Do you think I'm happy about this? Knowing you'll be nothing but a dream to everyone I know, knowing I want to live in your world and your world alone, and I'm so close to it, but I can't reach it? Imagine how, when the magic between us dies, you'll have to watch me suffer and cry my eyes out every day because I'll be putting you through hell too! And your parents will never let me be a part of their family! If these are not reasons good enough for you to let this go, you must be mental! Your folks will destroy you! Life with me will destroy you!'

'Not as much as it will destroy me to live without you!' screamed Malfoy. 'And who are you kidding anyway, that you'll be happy living as a muggle, renouncing not only everything you love, but everything you are?'

'Do you have any idea what it's like?' Wera was now crying uncontrollably, just like Draco, but that didn't stop her from looking frightening and intimidating. If anything, she seemed like she was prepared to do anything. 'Do you really have the vaguest concept of what it feels like? I know what I want! I dreamed last night,' she spoke in between the sobs, 'that I was looking into the Mirror of Erised. And we were together there, kissing, happy… And then, suddenly, my reflection just disappeared, leaving you there, alone. You know why that is? That's 'cause all I want is us, together, here! But I'm not here… that's why I'll never get to have you the way we both desire! Even if you're here waiting for me… I won't be,' she finished helplessly.

Draco looked like he wanted to find a way out of the situation, but there was nowhere to turn for salvation.

'Wh-what are you saying?' he choked. 'I can't do this! You can't just up and disappear! This can't be over! And if it is, just tell me how to deal with this, because I don't know what to do… _because I can't go back anymore, understand?'_

The last few words were a horrific scream. The rush of frustration, despair, fear and helplessness made Draco trigger an involuntary spell and, with his scream, every window in the bedroom exploded and shards of broken glass shot everywhere through the tense and hostile air. Wera and Draco both ducked and covered their heads with their arms to protect themselves from the shower of sharp cutting pieces that rained upon them. Downstairs, frightened voices were heard.

They both stood up, afraid and scratched up by the pieces that had not missed them, and looked at each other in the tense, heartbreaking confusion. Their bare feet shed blood on the floor for there was broken glass wherever they stepped. But the hurting was far beyond physical. Neither of them had ever expected for this argument to go this far. In the end, it felt like something apart from the windows of Percy's bedroom was broken. It was something between them that wasn't whole anymore.

'Alright,' Draco ventured to say at last, breathing heavily and bleeding, but still somewhat reconciled. Apparently, he'd realized he'd lost another battle. 'I cried for two days in my room after my mother cut you. I suppose I can turn this into a habit.'

Wera didn't find the strength to say anything.

'Feel free to leave since you've decided,' Draco continued, tears falling restlessly from his eyes. 'Not just me, the wizarding world. Everything that reminds you of me. Find the best muggle life you can live and your dream muggle and everything. But mark my words, mudblood – and I say this without an ounce of spite: you can search the whole universe for the perfect soulmate, muggle or wizard… but you'll never – and I mean never – accomplish your heart's deepest desire, because I may be the worst kind of good-for-nothing bastard you've ever met, but one thing I know for sure is that no one… but me… will ever… truly… understand you.'

Draco lowered down his shaking finger pointed at her, then looked away and headed towards the door.

'Where are you going?' uttered Wera feebly.

'Away. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?'

The girl's sobs, even after what had happened, could not leave him indifferent. He sighed and felt terrible for being weak in everything he ever did.

'I mean,' he said in a softer voice, 'you're bleeding. Would you like me to fix you up before I go?'

Wera looked up at him miserably, filled with self-disgust.

'Would it be too much trouble if you did it in the morning?' she implored weakly.

Draco approached her and gazed sadly into her reddened eyes.

'I could stay tonight, if you don't mind it.'

'Yeah… don't get me wrong. I want you to leave… but… not just yet.'

'Okay,' said Draco gently and wrapped his arms around the girl's shaking body.

'I meant what I said, you know.'

'I know, mudblood. First thing in the morning. Just not today.'


	8. Chapter 8: Dark And Light

**Chapter eight**

**Dark And Light**

Early next morning, Draco left the Burrow. Ron tried to cheer Wera up by saying it called for celebration. Meanwhile, in Malfoy Manor, Lucius was going crazy.

'I can't believe he's run away!' he grunted and cursed and bellowed. 'After all we've done for him!'

'You can't blame him, Lucius!' Narcissa argued ceaselessly with her husband. 'We did this. We never gave him a chance to be happy. Did you know that before he ran he cried in his room for two days? _Two days_!'

'So? He's always crying!' snarled Lucius, pacing back and forth like a rabid animal. 'Always so weak… I don't get it! Why must he be like that? Doesn't he know anything we've taught him about life? Where did we go wrong, Narcissa?'

'Where _didn't_ we go wrong, Lucius?' Narcissa was furious and desperate. She was now ready to forgive anything and repent for all her mistakes just so she could see her only child again. 'It's all our fault! Because of us our baby's missing and we may never find him! We've searched everywhere! What if we never see him again?' she cried in panic.

'You will see him,' Lucius assured her grimly. 'If anything, you will at the next Death Eater meeting tonight. If he has a survival instinct – and that, at least, he has – he'll show up at it. The Dark Lord doesn't just forgive anyone's absence like that. To him, death is the only acceptable excuse.

XXX

As Lucius had speculated, Draco did show up at the next meeting at Malfoy Manor. Still, he looked like a living and breathing corpse. He said nothing to anyone throughout the entire evening and didn't even touch his glass. He was so desperate he didn't even see a point in getting drunk.

It was about that time that Wera had finally gathered the emotional strength to leave the Burrow, where she'd been a guest of the Weasleys for the past few days. She tried to smile faintly as she was saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione.

'Thanks for everything,' she uttered absent-mindedly as she was walking out the door.

'Don't mention it,' Hermione assured her. 'You'll be fine, right? And if not, write to me, okay?'

'Of course. It's a promise.'

'You have all your things?'

'Yeah,' Wera nodded, 'I believe so.'

'And don't worry about the windows. I've already fixed them. Oh, and by the way,' Hermione added distractedly, pulling out a small white sphere from the pocket of her jeans, 'I think you've forgotten this. It isn't mine or Ron's, so we figured it must be yours. It's a good thing you have it. It's quite useful. Anyway, be safe.'

She placed the remembrall in Wera's hand. Wera stared at it, puzzled. It wasn't hers; she'd never had trouble remembering things. The little mist-filled ball had a tiny piece of parchment attached to it. Wera carefully tore it off the remembrall's surface and unfolded it. It said:

_"Hey, mudblood. I got you this as a random infuriating present. I used to mess around with one of these in my first year at Hogwarts. Really pissed off Potter, I must say proudly. _

_I'm giving you this in case you ever happen to forget about me. If it turns red, this note will help you figure out who it is you're forgetting. _

_As long as you don't forget me, I'll live on. _

_Yours, _

_The son of a bitch " _

Wera's breath froze in her throat. It wasn't just her sense of guilt and regret that had evoked this reaction. It was the painful realization that, logically, if Draco lived on as long as she didn't forget him, it meant that the moment she turned her back on him forever, he'd die.

The message was, of course, intended as a metaphor. But Draco believed in metaphors, being the drama queen he was. This meant that soon enough – whether Wera minded or not – he would do something really, really stupid.

Hermione cleared her throat.

'Um, Wera?' she asked cautiously. 'Are you sure you are alright?'

Wera snapped out of the petrifying panic. It was time to act.

'What? Oh, yes. Perfectly. It's just that there is something I remembered I had to do…'

'Clever thing, those remembralls, right?'

But Wera had already disapparated. There was just one place Draco could be at right now. And Wera's ability to be at two places at once would now prove to be more crucial than ever.

XXX

Voldemort was in the middle of his usual Death Eater meeting speech. He was talking about Russians and allies and attack strategies and the importance of carrying out the plan flawlessly and furtively. Draco wasn't listening at all. After his well-known failure in his sixth year, he never received orders for missions from the Dark Lord. His place in the group was that of a plaything to humiliate; he was there as a cruel joke with his entire family that the Dark Lord had organized. Usually, this upset him; being mocked for being good for nothing, constantly afraid, should the Dark Lord get bored and decide to Cruciate him always alert for not a second passed by without him thinking if he could be killed at any moment… But now, for the first time, it was different. If anything made this evening pleasant, it was how surprisingly calm and relaxed Draco realized he was feeling. Draco's despair had done for him what bravery couldn't. He wasn't afraid. If anything, he was relieved. Why try to protect his meaningless life? Now that Wera had gone, it didn't matter anymore – not that it ever had mattered before he'd met her. He just prayed he'd see the looks on his parents' faces just to see if, in his last moments, they would finally display any genuine affection for him…

'… and this, fellow Death Eaters, is the situation with your reports,' Voldemort spoke in a strict, business manner. 'Not perfect, but I'm nearly satisfied. We shouldn't rush out to reach the victory. We need to be patient, and extremely cautious. Any questions?'

Usually, that was the part of the meeting where everyone was too scared to say anything. Having questions was not a good thing in Voldemort's book. This time, however, someone pointedly cleared his throat. Half the Death Eaters turned in amazement when that someone turned out to be Draco Malfoy.

Draco was surprised too. It was as if his voice was speaking mechanically for him, without his brain's permission, and he was passively listening to himself produce words from a great distance.

'I have a question,' he stood up and said; his voice thin yet louder than anyone expected. He now had everyone's attention in the perfect silence. His mother gasped, horrified. She looked terribly aggrieved anyway. She'd clearly been crying.

The Dark Lord was taken aback by the fact that someone had the audacity to stand up without his permission, when he himself was sitting. He stood up as well, grim and intimidating, quickly concealed his irritation and said in a low, heavy voice:

'Yes?'

Draco didn't tremble at his unyielding, piercing stare. Ages ago, he would have been impressed with himself.

'I want to ask why we need to do this at all,' he began with a hollow voice, but it grew progressively clear and composed. The first and most fatal step had already been made. He'd never felt this secure in his entire life. 'Call this thing off. Who wants to be a Death Eater anyway? I know I don't. Half the people here are here out of fear. And what's the point? We should all be in prison. Killing people and trying to rule the world is an occupation for those who really can't find a point in anything else in their lives. I don't believe in your beliefs.'

Narcissa couldn't take her eyes off her son. She was pale as a ghost and was shaking all over as the Dark Lord was growing increasingly displeased with what he was hearing. But Draco had no intention of shutting up. He knew what to do. Voice out what the walls in Malfoy Manor have to say and you're sure to have signed your death sentence.

He was about to sign it gladly.

The other Death Eaters were nervous, because they sensed death approaching and were scared that it might rub off on them too. The two older Malfoys were terrified. Lucius pulled his son by the sleeve and whispered tensely:

'Come on, Draco… sit down. Stop making a fool of yourself – '

'No, Father!' Draco thrust his father's hand away from his with determination. Narcissa yelped and tears flooded her eyes. Her son continued to speak on autopilot rather than passion or courage. It was all the same to him now. 'I'm saying what no one here has the stomach to say. I'd like to quit. I know you don't quit being a Death Eater,' he continued uninterrupted, 'and to ask for this means to be killed. But I'm up for it. I'd rather die than live this nightmare a second longer. So, _my Lord_,' Draco uttered with bitterness in his voice, 'I have nothing to lose and I have nothing to gain you. I'm of no use to this… group. So either let me walk away… or finish me off. Here I stand. Either way, I quit.'

No one dared make a sound. In the petrifying silence, the Dark Lord was smiling to himself, and that was never a good sign.

'Draco,' he began to speak slowly, in a composed, amused voice. 'I've been known to have patience that tends to easily wear thin. You know that. But you can't deny I've been very patient with you all these years. I am a merciful Lord,' the Dark Lord looked down on Draco, who was still obstinately refusing to sit down or even flinch, to his parents' horror. 'You will find it rather generous of me that I will not punish your parents for your choice of words. Watching you die will be enough of a punishment for them.'

The Death Eaters had become no more than a background to the scene, with the exception of Lucius Malfoy and his wife, who was stifling low restless cries.

'You're confused, Draco,' the Dark Lord continued in a velvet voice. 'I understand it must be difficult for you, and yet you know I can't just let you… hmm… resign. That'd give my other servants the false impression that I overlook disloyalty. I should kill you – but I don't want to. I deeply value your display of sincerity. So, because I'm a patient and merciful Lord, I'll give you one more chance to think your choice over. If you decide to stay with us, you will be spared a punishment. If you still wish to leave us, however, I'd have no choice but to kill you.'

Draco had never felt more in control in his life. This was exactly what he'd wanted.

'Think carefully, Draco,' urged Voldemort. 'Many people don't see the value of their lives until it's too late. Besides, don't be selfish. Do you really want to break your parents' hearts? Look at them!' he grinned in the Malfoys' general direction.

'No… please… don't kill him… don't kill my boy, take me instead,' Narcissa pleaded through her wretched, inconsolable sobs. 'Take me and Lucius both. Please…'

'Silence!' shouted the Dark Lord, and the dining hall became quieter than a graveyard. 'I'm listening, Draco. But I don't have all night. What is your response?'

'Draco… please… don't do this… think of us… of your mother…' implored Lucius. Draco's face didn't change for a moment upon the sight of his parents. He ignored them both and stared, blinking heavily, into the Dark Lord's eyes.

He was certain this would work. He had nothing left to fear. In these crucial seconds, Draco finally achieved inner peace, as his thoughts fled, towards the memory of a girl who had once told him: "_When it comes to pissing people off, you're a natural_"…

"Okay, Malfoy," he thought, "time to do what you do best…"

'No,' he replied coldly with morbid suicidal satisfaction. He was surprised at the strength of his voice.

'No?' Voldemort repeated in sheer disbelief. '_No_?' he said again, this time furious.

'No!' Draco spat out across the table in the Dark Lord's direction, his face crooked with the hatred stored for years. 'I'm tired of playing this stupid pointless game!'

He immediately shook at the realization of what he'd just done. But he could no longer go back on his plan.

Anger was rising in the Dark Lord like steam was rising from boiling water. If there was one thing he hated above all, it was humiliation.

'Very well,' he prompted with a voice cold as death. 'Then suffer the consequences of your choice, you arrogant little boy!' Voldemort hissed, and drew out his wand in a flash.

'NO!' Narcissa screamed, and rushed towards her son, but it was too late.

'Avada Kedavra!'

Draco closed his eyes tightly shut, awaiting the inevitable end of it all. After all these years living in fear he almost looked forward to it. Wow, he thought, that's how Potter must feel all the time…

Alive. It was unbelievable.

A perfect moment just before the ending…

'Protego!' a voice rang from nowhere, it seemed.

The Dark Lord's jaw dropped as his curse was blocked. As did everyone else's. All heads turned instantly towards the door.

"Bugger," Draco thought, "even when I try to die, I fail!"

Then, to his amazement, he saw Wera, standing in the door frame, wand at the ready. A cheerful smile danced across her face.

Draco's heart leapt with joy, which quickly turned to terror when he saw her stroll carelessly towards the Dark Lord. Voldemort, of course, was equally shocked.

'Let's take it down a notch now, shall we? It's okay, Draco,' the girl assured and winked encouragingly at the young dumbstruck man, 'everything's under control. I'll take it from here.'

Draco looked like he had been Petrificus Totallused.

'And who might you be?' the Dark Lord turned to Wera mockingly. 'I need to know the name of the next person I'll kill.'

'Oh, I'm just a filthy little mudblood,' Wera replied, pacing calmly through the room in her jeans and sneakers. She was even playing with her wand. 'But I'm not important. This is about him, you see,' she nodded at Draco. 'He isn't yours to kill. So, if you don't terribly mind, leave him alone and let him go.'

Her voice, albeit seemingly careless, still cut like a knife. Voldemort started laughing joylessly.

'Foolish, unworthy creature,' he spoke. 'Please do not embarrass yourself. As if you can actually influence me on what to do with my servants.'

'Hmm. Negotiation won't work, then?'

'I'm afraid there is nothing you can offer me.'

'Thought so myself. In this case, I'll have to resort to a different approach.'

Then, before the Death Eaters and Voldemort's astonished eyes, something unusual happened in the room. A cloud of black smoke enveloped the small figure of the girl. Black tar started trickling, then dripping heavily and finally pouring from the ceiling. The candles, fires and torches all went out. Blood the color of ink surfaced onto the mudblood's pale skin. Her eyes slowly went darker and darker until they were more ominous than a starless night, and the air in the place started smelling of sulfur and molten copper. It flickered, trembled and occasionally sparked. Every pureblood wizard in the room knew what this was: magic overflow. And a heavy one, too. But there was more to it than that. This was ancient, raw dark magic.

The Dark Lord hesitated. That wasn't anything that he'd expected. He decided not to act hastily. Usually, this was magic achieved very rarely and always with the help of illegal and life-threatening potions. How the raw dark force of the magic field hadn't destroyed the girl's body yet was a mystery to him. Voldemort, naturally, wasn't frightened. If anything, he seemed curious.

'I see,' he said evenly. 'You're one of us, then. We're few out there, you know. What can you do to show me you're worth my attention?'

Wera looked pale, frightening and not all there. She was nothing like herself; she appeared possessed. When she spoke, her voice echoed with a hair-raising otherworldly sound. "Otherworldly", of course, was not used in the good sense.

'Frankly, I don't know,' the girl said slowly. She gave one of the Death Eaters a blank look. Suddenly, he started twitching, squirming, choking, and screaming. Then, his body began to shed bits of skin like the sky shed snowflakes in winter. 'But I'm willing to give it a damn good try.'

The unfortunate man fell unconscious on the ground and the eerie process stopped. Voldemort grinned.

'You're good,' he estimated with strange satisfaction, 'but are you good enough to fight me? And win?'

'I have no interest in fighting you,' Wera replied coldly. 'I'm only here for him. I don't like to have to kill. But I swear I'll murder every man and woman in this room who tries to harm him in any way.'

'And what happens when you get to me?' Voldemort hissed at the girl ominously. There was something going on between the two of them. It was as if he was breathing her magic in, purely out of academic interest. He was mildly impressed. Now, he looked upon her as his equal opponent.

'It's obvious, isn't it?' Wera said. 'If we fight, either I die, or you. Either way I get what I want. I will not let you get to him, that's what matters. I'll take the curse intended for him and that'll ensure his protection. Fight me and waste your precious time. Kill me now and my spilt dirty blood will shield him from your wrath.'

Voldemort quickly remembered the power of the self-sacrifice, a power he'd underestimated once too often in the past. His wicked grin vanished from his face.

'Clever,' he uttered. 'So you want me to let him get away with this…'

'Set him free. There is no way you can win this.'

'But what do you want with him?' the Dark Lord lowered his voice to a whisper. Wera's voice, on the other hand, sounded like two people talking at the same time, one in an ancient and mysterious language. The room was already pitch-black with smoke and tar. The bystanders were not unlike hypnotized.

'Let me enter your mind,' Wera's voice rang through the thick darkness. 'I'll show you.'

Then, something else happened. It wasn't a visible change, but it was easy to feel. It was as if every molecule in the moist and bitter air imploded with magic. Something was happening that the other wizards could not conceive. Clearly, the conflict had moved into the mind of the two dark wizards.

'_LET HIM GO_,' Wera's thoughts cut like steel knives.

'_No. He is my servant. He belongs to me._'

'_HE NEVER DID. HE WAS NEVER OF ANY USE TO YOU._ _HIS PLACE IS NOT HERE, AND YOU KNOW IT.' _

_'How can you be so sure?' _Voldemort said, while attempting to override his opponent's power.

'_HE DOESN'T HAVE WHAT YOU THOUGHT YOU SAW IN HIM. I KNOW YOU PUT HIM THROUGH HELL JUST TO BRING OUT THE DEMON IN HIM, AND YOU FAILED. THE THING YOU'RE LOOKING FOR IN YOUR SERVANTS… THE DARKNESS… THE VENOM… THE POTENTIAL… WHAT YOU AND I HAVE – HE DOESN'T HAVE IT. HE'S USELESS TO YOU. HE IS JUST YOUR TOY.'_

_'It seems you have a problem with that. But why should I have a problem with it as well?'_

_'BECAUSE, IF YOU LOOK BACK TO WHAT YOU OUGHT TO BE, DEEP IN YOUR BLOOD AND THE ESSENCE OF YOUR VERY OWN INNER DARKNESS, YOU'LL SEE IT'S BENEATH THE LEVEL OF A WIZARD LIKE YOURSELF TO STILL WASTE TIME, LIKE A CHILD, ON PLAYTHINGS.'_

_'I see… but what do you want with him? Like you said, he is useless.'_

_'JUST HIS FREEDOM.'_

_'Liar! You cannot invade my inner truth. You lie. Lord Voldemort always knows.'_

_'YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS WITH HIM. HE DOESN'T HAVE THE SEED OF EVIL. HE DOES NOT, HAS NEVER, AND WILL NEVER HAVE THE HEART THAT YOU NEED.'_

_'Foolish witch_,' Voldemort laughed, and his laughter ran cold through her conscience, '_do you truly believe that he's got the heart that __**you**__ need?_'

Silence set in, poisonous and heavy.

'_Do you think_,' Voldemort continued speaking soundlessly in the girl's head, '_that he will ever know? That he'll ever see what ones like you and I were made of? He's blind to the beauty of the dark, like most others. He'll be blind to yours, too. With him, you will forever feel alone. He will never know and appreciate the dark the way you do.'_

_'I'M RATHER COUNTING ON THAT.'_

_'And why is that?' _Voldemort asked in amusement.

'_BECAUSE, IF HE WAS STAINED BY THE SAME POISON AS I AM, I WOULDN'T CARE FOR HIM AT ALL.'_

_'He'll never go where you've been. And you'll always want to go back there. Death is tempting to you and me… So why abandon this for a simple human being?'_

_'BECAUSE EVERYTHING THAT'S BRILLIANT IS SIMPLE. BECAUSE ALL OF MY LIFE I'VE LIVED IN THE SHADOW OF MY OWN MIND. IT BECAME MY STRENGTH, MY SOLACE; A PART OF ME. OT SOAKED MY HEART BLACK. WE BOTH KNOW IT'S A HEAVY BURDEN TO CARRY. AND THEN, RECENTLY, ONE SIMPLE SOUL TOUCHED WHAT WAS LEFT OF MINE… AND MADE ALL THAT POISON CLEAR AWAY, AND WIPED ALL THE DIRT CLEAN OFF, AND LIFTED ALL THE HEAVY LOADS. I WAS CURED…' _

_'…and when the disease was gone, you lost yourself too.'_

_'NO, I FOUND MYSELF. HE DIDN'T DESTROY MY ESSENCE. HE DIDN'T TRY TO KILL OR CHANGE IT, LIKE MOST OTHERS. HE LOVED MY DARK. YOU'VE NEVER KNOWN WHAT THAT'S LIKE.'_

_'I don't believe you.'_

_'I AM NOT LYING. I WILL SHOW YOU.'_

Nothing left but cold, dead silence…

_'BEFORE HE CAME ALONG… THERE WAS NO HOPE. NO LIGHT. JUST DARK – AND I HAD GROWN TO BELIEVE THE LIGHT WAS A MYTH. I LIVED IN A PRISON AND THOUGHT THERE WAS NOTHING OUT THERE. AND I HAD TO LIVE WITH THE ABSENCE OF LIFE EVERY DAY. HE… IS MY LIGHT.' _

_'How touching… You're saying he saved you. But you draw your strength from your belief in him, not from his light. He's not even here with you. Your delusion is all that feeds you. There is no light in him, witch, or in anyone else in this world. Never was, never will be. There are only different shades and shapes of the dark. And all he has for you is darkness you make believe is light,' _Voldemort finished morbidly.

Wera felt she was about to give in.

_'I SUPPOSE YOU'RE RIGHT…'_

_'I never lie. And you can never prevail. Not in my mind, on my own territory. It's over.'_

_'…BUT EVEN IF HE'S JUST DARKNESS, HE IS STILL __**MY **__DARKNESS! AND I WILL NEVER, EVER, __**EVER**__ LET YOU TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME!' _

An explosion of utter blackness, unlike the first one, but instead loud and sharp as the sound of death in small amounts, consumed everything and made the air scream in agony. Then, a moment later, out of the pitch-black nothingness, a bright, silver silhouette emerged. It was a large shining light, like an explosion of moonlight shaped like a real-life-sized dragon. The darkness shrieked, dispersed, and in a heavy, painful second everything fell into place.

The room was stained with tar completely; smoke was rising from the marble walls. Hundreds of Death Eaters lay unconscious on the floor and table. The Dark Lord stood up from the ground, looked up and was instantly blinded by the light and size of Wera's Patronus. She was still standing.

'It has to come from him, you see,' she said to Voldemort meekly. 'Her regular appearance, albeit stained and steaming, was slowly restoring itself. 'The light. He must have planted it in me. Because I wasn't born with it in the first place.'


	9. Chapter 9: Reasons To Hate You

**Chapter nine**

**Reasons To Hate You**

The Dark Lord stared at her, speechless. Wera ignored him. She pointed her wand to each member of the Malfoy family and Enervated them. Then, she turned to Narcissa, who was only just seeing what had happened. Nevertheless, she had felt it.

'I'm sorry, Mrs – ' Wera began, but Narcissa raised a hand and interrupted her:

'Hush. I've seen enough. You mean a lot to Draco, and if he means as much to you… I mean… clearly, he does. You saved his life. If you wish to… make him happy again… I won't stand in your way.'

'I was hoping to save more than his life today… Come on, Draco,' Wera turned to the terminally confused Draco and took him by the hand, 'I have something to talk to you about.'

'But – you owe me an explanation…' Malfoy muttered chaotically. 'How did you know I was… and how did you do… and what the bloody hell just happened?'

'You're relieved of your duties as a Death Eater, that's what happened. Not sure if the Mark will wash out, though.'

'Oh, come on! At least tell me how you managed to get in Malfoy Manor when it's impossible to apparate there!'

'I did apparate. Only not in the wizarding world. I apparated at the place where Malfoy Manor should be in the muggle world. If you know about parallel worlds – that means our two worlds blend in, and there's a copy of every place in both worlds – you'll see it wasn't hard. And I know how to be in two places at once – that's how I make ends meet in both worlds, so when I'm at the muggle place where Malfoy Manor should be, I am, at the same time, in Malfoy Manor itself… I hope my folks won't find out I'm gone, though…'

'Brilliant… I understood none of it,' Draco admitted.

'Oh, never mind... Come on, let's go somewhere more private.'

They apparated on a meadow not far from the Burrow. Before Draco could ask why, Wera's arm swung swiftly and the palm of her hand smacked him hard across his cheek.

'Ouch!' protested Malfoy, for whom the surprises didn't seem to end today. 'What was that for?'

'That was for trying to kill yourself, you idiot,' Wera snarled. Then, as abruptly as she'd slapped him, she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

'And that,' she added with a smile, breathless, peaked, but nevertheless beaming, 'is for being yourself.'

Draco blinked heavily against her.

'Does that mean we still get to date now, or is it a kiss goodbye?'

Wera rolled her eyes angrily at the early morning sky.

'You know what, Malfoy? Just shut up.'

'Why?'

'Because everything you ever say inevitably destroys everything you ever mean. I'm so much better with words than you are.'

Even after all that had happened, Draco still had the strength to argue.

'Oh yeah?' he fired back fervently. 'Well, I may not be so good at expressing what I feel – blame my parents – but I'm sure about this,' Draco exclaimed and the words that followed left his throat with more effort than his hate speech to the Dark Lord: 'I love you!' he shouted. He was breathing heavily, looking sincere, lost, embarrassed, desperate and a little insane all the same. 'And I'll be sodding damned if I could survive a day without you! You gave me all! You helped me change my destiny! And I want to spend every moment I have left to live helping you change yours! You don't have to live like a muggle… I'll make it work; I'll change the world into a better place for you to live in! And if it's not enough, I'll make sure I'm more than enough, and I'll give you so much of me that you'll never have to feel there's anything missing…'

'Malfoy…'

'If your heart gets broken, I'll keep Reparoing it. If it's down, I'll fly it up high,' Draco was starting passionately on the cheesy earnest lines. 'If it's dying, I'll make a horcrux for it…'

'Malfoy…'

'…'cause, in a manner of speaking, you're kind of like a horcrux to me… for you're the part that's missing of my soul… and only with it around, I can live on…'

'Malfoy,' said Wera softly and smiled at him, 'I'm staying.'

Apparently, Draco didn't see that coming. Suddenly, he looked really insecure again. His eyes filled with tears; tears of what, Wera did not know. He swallowed hard; then looked at her, not with gratitude, but with a shade of concern and disbelief, as though she had lost her mind:

'What? ... You're staying? With me? But… why?'

Wera sighed, then smiled a small helpless smile at Draco again. He looked so innocent now, so desperately sincere; so beautiful to her in his inexplicable anxiety that she saw no sense in keeping the truth from him any longer.

'What can I say, Draco,' she began, and for reasons she could not explain, tears swelled in her own eyes as well, tears of joy and adoration, for the more she looked at him, the more she couldn't believe how lucky she was to have him. 'I hate you. I really do. More than anything in the world. Sometimes it may seem like I don't, but it's just because there are times I hate you less, and times I hate you more. I hate you for so many reasons. I hate you because I never feel afraid when I'm with you. I hate you because I've never experienced such consuming feelings for anyone before. I hate you because you make it so easy to breathe, and when you're gone it feels like I'm underwater. I hate you because you always say the wrong thing, and it's always what I want to hear. And because you make me feel like there's still hope for my soul. And you make me better… you bring out a light in me I never thought I had. And because I'm ready to forsake my wretched life for you, throw it away; I'm ready to give up all my pains, all my hells, all my hurting, without which I never dared to live…'

Malfoy was dumbstruck. Still, Wera's long-suppressed feelings of love-induced agony were only just beginning to brim.

'Let me see…' she continued obstinately. 'I also hate you because you're the only one who can understand me without knowing anything about me, without even making an effort. I hate the way we see through each other and the way you make everything seem simple, possible and easy. I hate the way I'm torn from myself when I am torn from you, and when I lose myself, you always manage to find me. I hate that there is nothing and everything loveable about you. I hate the way I lose my ability to suffer when you're around. I hate the way you're my Patronus, my chosen one, my ray of sodding sunshine in this confusing world…'

Her voice trailed off, she nearly started crying, but contained herself and went on with fresh bitterness:

'I hate the way you inspired me to trust and be myself with you. I hate the loving way you call me "mudblood", the way you tend to my wounds, the way you can be every bit of a true Slytherin and still remain the best man I ever knew… I hate you because I've been in hell all my life, looking desperately for heaven… and I'm looking for my heaven still, but I see just now it's looking right at me… from your hideous grey eyes, which I hate when they look at me like that… and, last but not least,' she continued, shaking all over, 'I hate the fact that you're my heart's one true deepest sodding desire.'

At these words, she could not restrain herself any longer, and burst out crying. Draco held her safe in his arms and pressed his blond head to her shoulder. To soothe her and express his infinite relief and gratitude, he lightly kissed her neck, cheeks and forehead multiple times. The sky was pink with the upcoming sunrise.

'Is that all?' he smiled meekly at the sobbing girl.

'Of course not!' Wera objected weakly, brushing her tears away. 'You – you might think that's all, but it isn't... I hate you limitlessly, Malfoy, and you might think I couldn't hate you more, but – but… if you ever so much as think of letting me go… or forgetting me, or leaving me, or letting me do either of those… then I swear to Slytherin, I'll hate you more than – more than… even more than I hate Harry Potter!' she finished threateningly through her tears.

As he held her and caressed her hair tenderly, Malfoy listened patiently to her rant and smiled to himself with the most un-Malfoy smile imaginable.

'Don't worry, mudblood,' he assured her softly. 'You know I was never able to beat Potter at anything.'

With these words he kissed her desperately, gracefully, lovingly and passionately, and they both sank into the overdramatic pink sunrise. Wera's ears echoed with a song as serene and touching as the song of a phoenix. Pure or dirty blood, they were wizards, and this was the only world they ever belonged in – each other's. Magic fuelled them, magic guided them; magic brought them to life and made them who they were… They couldn't be anywhere else but with each other, here, on magical ground. Because, after all, wizard love wasn't quite like muggle love. Muggle love didn't make flowers bloom and mountains move and torn up souls become whole again. It wasn't something you could be taught, and it wasn't necessarily inherited by blood.

It was a gift and a curse you just had to be born with.


	10. Epilogue: Magic

**Epilogue**

**Magic**

Several months later, Wera and the Malfoy family were sitting at the dining table at Malfoy Manor. Everyone was beaming, except Lucius. He was sitting at the table, barely touching his food, and looked about as grumpy and tense as though he'd just swallowed a hedgehog. Clearly, he couldn't get over the painful thought that his son was still dating a mudblood, and moreover – that this mudblood was sitting at the same table as he, Lucius, was. Narcissa kicked him under the table every now and then, or prodded his foot with her high-heeled shoe to remind him he must behave.

'What a lovely dinner this is, isn't it, darling?' she'd often say, winking conspiratorially at Draco.

'Well, that was fun,' Draco commented on the family dinner when it was finally over. He and Wera were out on the balcony, gazing at the starry sky and enjoying the feel of autumn rain on their skin.

'Who'd think we'd ever be here together?' Wera said dreamily. 'With your parents knowing and everything… It's amazing no one's forced us to break up yet.'

'Well,' Draco raised a thin blond eyebrow, 'you did make an impression on my mother last summer with that extremely Gryffindor gesture of saving my life.'

'I was only doing it so we could keep having dead babies,' Wera retorted with a smile.

'Mind you, Mother is really excited about us having living ones…'

'Oh, please. It's way too early for that. Good thing we have plenty of condoms.' Wera sank into her own thoughts for a while, frowned at them, and turned to Draco a tad more grimly: 'You do know it won't always be this easy, though. Your parents aren't a problem. The thing is, our dreadful destiny will catch up with us one day and I just don't know how we'll manage to win against it.'

'We'll cheat,' Draco replied carelessly.

'Spoken like a true Slytherin. But I'm still not convinced, Draco. I mean, there are forces in the universe far stronger than us and anything we've ever faced… and I don't think they're too happy about us changing the rules of the game.'

Draco smiled reassuringly at his girlfriend and pulled her closer to himself with one graceful gentlemanly gesture.

'Always the optimist, my bitter mudblood girl,' he said to her affectionately. 'Relax. There's one thing we purebloods are taught at an early age that you mudbloods don't fully realize: we're wizards. We can do whatever we want. We've altered space and time. We've defied the gods and fate itself. We've handled the witchhunts. We make our own destiny; we're free to do that. That's what magic is all about.'

The air around them was thick and laden with static electricity, despite the rain, and had a familiar taste of molten copper. Occasionally, feathers and flower petals and even small flames materialized out of thin – or, rather, thick – air into the fresh-scented night sky. It was a feeling you didn't need a remembrall not to forget.

'See?' Draco pointed at the sight with an infuriatingly victorious grin. 'Magic overflow.'

'It's a shame it doesn't last in the muggle world, that feeling,' Wera uttered, sounding a little melancholic. Draco noticed this in an instant. He couldn't remain ignorant of it.

'What, the feeling we're sharing now?' he asked mildly. 'Don't worry about it fading away, mudblood. It's real enough for us, no matter which world we're in. That'll never change. You see, mudblood, we get the best of both worlds, you and I,' Draco assured her, staring absent-mindedly into the Scorpius constellation in the sky. He held her hand in his. 'It's one and the same thing in the muggle and the wizarding world, really… It just goes by different names.'

'And they are?' Wera inquired with a small hopeful smile.

'You know I'm not good with muggle terms,' Draco replied. 'But I know they've seriously misnamed it as usual, those crazy muggles. That raw connecting force – the power drawing two people inexplicably and irrevocably to each other regardless of logic, circumstances or destiny… They call it chemistry… We call it _magic_.'

* * *

SEQUEL TO THIS STORY: "THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE"


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